


Say 'Hi' to the Jefferson

by Smaragd_Witch



Series: Say 'Hi' to the Jefferson [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Broken Families, Controlling mother, Depression, F/F, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, From rich to poor, Gen, Hurt Thomas Jefferson, In friendship form but it's there, Jane Jefferson seems to be the only good sister, M/M, Madison is a good friend, Martha is supportive, Miscommunication, Mother and son complicated relationship, Narcissistic mother, Sexism, character(s) death(s), human disaster thomas jefferson, jeffmads - Freeform, lawyer AU, thomas is tryiNG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-08-08 15:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16432442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smaragd_Witch/pseuds/Smaragd_Witch
Summary: After a fight that obliges him to cut any ties with his family and the comfortable life he's always known, Thomas must start from scratch. Thank goodness he has Martha by his side......Until he doesn't.And he sees himself raising two daughters on his own.And things just escalate from there.





	1. Thomas Jefferson is leaving home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iliveinthetrashcan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iliveinthetrashcan/gifts), [insomniac13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/insomniac13/gifts).



> This whole thing is like an alternative version of a plot from a few episodes of H is for Hamilton (you don't need to read all that, this is another take of the story).  
> It all started thanks to a comment thread that discussed Thomas' relationship with his daughters, and I couldn't help myself to write them a more focused fic just on them and, hopefully, development.  
> Some scenes will be similar with slight changes, like this one, from the one of H is for Hamilton, but some others will be original or even 'deleted scenes' I didn't remember to put or simply didn't find the right spot for them.

The pendulum clock helped him know how much time he’d spent in that dimly lit room, sitting across his Judge, who was surrounded by a bribed jury. Even the weather seemed to be on the upset woman’s side; dark clouds, proper of the winter, averted the sunlight to come through. The gloomy atmosphere helped to shade his mother’s already dark and cold eyes, and so, helping her to exert more pression along with her heavy silence.

 

            A little breeze came through the opened windows, turning the spacious workroom chillier. Thomas thanked it; that way he could fool everyone, even himself, into thinking his irregular shaking was because of the wind and had nothing to do with his nerves, which grew at how still his mother and sister were in juxtaposition.

 

Jane and Lucy wouldn’t look like mother and daughter for the foreign eye. The younger had inherited, just as he did, the curly raven hair of their father and his slim physique. But if you stayed close enough (if you had enough immunity to toxic personalities) you’d see how the third child of the Jefferson was a copy of the matriarch. Thomas never said ‘a younger version’ because, despite being nine years younger than him, Lucy looked like their mother’s little sister. The first son of the clan thought it had a lot to do with that habit both their mother and Lucy had of always frowning and never smiling.

 

 And that wasn’t the only thing the two women understood each other in.

 

Lucy shared their mother’s sharp glare, proper more of a vulture that overflew its prey than one of a human being, able to cut you with just one look; those venomous words they threw as darts; those unsettling smiles they seldomly gifted you with, with those pointed teeth that waited to suck your energy; that soothing coldness they talked you with, so you’d let them decide on your behalf without questioning why, for it was always accompanied by that sorrowful tone with which they assured they were doing it all because they wanted the best for you.

 

It was like hearing sirens signing. Deep down you know you’re approaching your doom, but you keep walking, because the relaxation of conformity and stability weighed more than uncertainty.

 

Maybe that was why his father had endured it until his dying breath. Maybe because of it, Jen kept coming back, though she barely could keep a conversation with their mother that stayed serene till the end. Maybe that was the reason why Thomas still allowed this to happen.

 

He looked over at his youngest siblings. The twins. Anna and Randolph. Their personalities shone by their absence. But some days, like today, Thomas preferred it that way. The last thing he needed during these moments were more stones thrown his way.

 

            There was a moment when Anna locked eyes with him, and Thomas could swear he read some sympathy in the lines of her frowned lips and brows. But the exchange was so ephemeral Thomas doubted it’d been real at all. He returned his attention to his mother, not paying the event any mind. It was just so implausible it wasn’t worth his time. The only sibling that ever showed him any kind of positive human emotion had been Jen, their oldest sister. And, of course, the only presence Jane had prohibited inside this room.

 

            Neither was allowed in there their housekeeper, Consuelo, the woman that had truly raised him, though Thomas never had the guts to say it out loud. And if his father had been alive, he’d have been kicked out before he could’ve even had the chance to speak his mind about the whole issue. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

 

            And that was what gave Thomas enough strengths and composure to put up with this until it was finally over: this was not the first time his mother decided to embarrass him for something he’d done wrong. After the trial were over, the silent treatment would be his well-known punishment, and though Thomas hated being ignored and treated as a mere speck of dust, he could cope. The pain was so familiar there were times he barely felt it at all, and it had also forged his patience.

 

            So, he’d have to wait until his mother needed something from him (which would happen sooner or later, one didn’t get to be the head of one of the most venerated law firms by not socializing several times a month) and then he’d be visible for his relatives again. Until his next slip-up, of course. It was a never-ending cycle that started since he was very little.

 

            And, after all these years, Thomas still didn’t know what he preferred: his mother’s indifference or constant vigilance.

 

“What did I do wrong?”

 

            Jane finally talked, and the tension only grew.

 

            Her voice reached Thomas’ ears, making him cringe. It really sounded like ice cracking slowly.

 

“I really must’ve done something _very wrong_ for _my son_ to treat me like this” she continued, frowning before his silence.

 

Thomas remained apathetic. _You’re used to this, you can do this_ , he encouraged himself.

 

“Do you even know why I’m angry, Thomas?”

 

            _No, and I don’t care enough to know at this point._

“Will you ever learn to talk to people when they’re confronting you?”

 

            Now, it was Thomas’ time to narrow his eyes in annoyance. _That surely was a low blow, Mother_.

 

“No wonder why you had to drop out” chimed in Lucy, adding salt to a wound she knew pretty well it was still open.

 

            Thomas refrained himself before he could throw the apple of his mother’s eyes a hateful glare. Jane ignored the jab, as expected, and kept going with her reprimand.

 

“Do you remember the conversation we had before the gathering, Thomas?”

 

            He nodded. And yes, he admitted it, he kept giving non-verbal answers because it was the only way he had to feel some kind of power during the conversations with his mother. Sometimes, he couldn’t control his silence, but he’d always be the owner of his words.

 

Jane’s left eyebrow ticked. “I told you important people were attending the event” she reminded him, drawling her words with that thick southerner accent that only showed up when she was too upset, the only way one had to know when Jane Jefferson was reaching her limit. “And that I’d love for you to be there to know a great part of them”

 

            _You’d love to hand me over to other puppeteer because now you can’t be over me the twenty-four hours of the day_ , countered Thomas, inspiring slowly through his nostrils. His hands turning colder, his blood warmer.

 

“And you didn’t only turn down all their tries to make conversation with you”

 

 _Their tries to interrogate me about my_ personal decisions _._

“You also left to marry that… That…”

“Martha”

 

            Jane threw daggers in his direction when he heard what first word her son had decided to say since she’d made him come. Thomas tensed his jaw under her disapproving glare, but stood his ground.

 

“That _divorced woman*_ …” continued Jane, as if the interruption hadn’t occurred at all. The two words pronounced with a disgust out of this world. “Behind your mother’s backs; behind your siblings’ backs…”

“Nothing you’ve done since you knew her made me think you’d want to be there” was the excuse Thomas gave; his tranquil voice in contrast of his rapid heartrate.

Jane squinted her eyes, showed her clenched teeth. “A civil wedding” she kept going, not minding his words at all, though they were igniting her inner fire, the one she was trying so hard to have under control. “Is that the education I’ve given you?”

 

_No, you haven’t raised me; the personnel did._

“Do you think you’re being fair to me?”

 

            _Just as much as you’ve been to me._

            Jane’s face contorted in one of rage when she saw her son was going to keep his silence once again. Sighing loudly, she declared:

 

“You’re going to null _that_ ”

“Pardon?” It came out without thinking, the shock clear in his features.

“If you want to marry a woman, you will do it fine” explained Jane, sternly, tapping her pen in frustration against her desk.

“I _already_ married” argued Thomas, leaning on his seat.

“That thing you did last night in a hurry will never be valid in my eyes” warned Jane, straightening herself in her chair; the chin up. “Neither in the eyes of God, for that matter”

Thomas did all within his power to not roll his eyes just there. “I didn’t marry you or God. I married Martha”

“Don’t worry, brother” interjected Lucy, before his mother could elaborate her posture. “She won’t mind that much; she already divorced once” she fake-supported with a mocking smile, enjoying his current situation.

“It is a miracle she didn’t bring a backpack*” Jane didn’t hesitate in joining her daughter’s sneering comments. “You’re fool enough to have taken care of somebody else’s child… Maybe even treated it as your own”

“Who knows if she already knows the experience” commented Lucy, out of the blue, scrunching up her nose in repulsion. “I expect _anything_ from a woman like _that_ ”

“Like _how_?” questioned Thomas, balling his hands into fists; the half-moons his nails made on his palms helping him to keep his voice volume controlled.

Jane went to her daughter’s aid. How typical. “Enough of this. We can continue this conversation while we’re planning the wedding”

“We…” tried to talk Thomas.

“And, hopefully, you’d realise where you’re getting into” added Jane, throwing him a disregarding up and down look.

“I’m not…”

“Or, if God finally answers my prayers, you would finally meet someone worthy, an upstanding woman. Last night, before you deliberately disobeyed me, I was about to introduce you to…”

 

            And something snapped inside Thomas’ head. He simply exploded.

 

            _He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t do this anymore._

            In a second, Thomas got up from the chair, almost making it fall for the vehement of his sudden act. It succeeded to finally make her mother’s mouth to click shut and to his siblings to look at him with the guard up for whatever he could do.

 

“I will not marry again!” he swore, raising his voice considerably, his cheeks burning and his body trembling from contained ire. “Martha and I liked the intimate ceremony we had and that’s all that matters”

Jane’s surprise changed when she heard the name of her in-law. “So, would you rather please your girlfriend, a woman you knew on the street, than your own mother?”

“ _Wife_ ” Thomas corrected, first of all, then answered. “And I’d rather please _me_. I think it’s about damn time”

“Do not swear” reprehended Jane, between gritted teeth. “And lower your voice. That’s not the way I raised you”

Thomas, this time, huffed, despite his best judgment. “You have _not_ raised me. None of us, for that matter” He opened his arms, throwing glares to his silent siblings. Lucy was seething, her sombre expression matching their mother’s; the twins simply looked at him with eyes wide, still avoiding visual contact. “You’re just a mother because you gave birth, but because nothing else. The job of raising us was passed to Consuelo, _whom you never thanked once,_ because you were too busy with your job”

Jane’s glare sharpened more than it already was. “I fed y’all thanks to that job. Thank to that job you could live your care-free lives”

“That’s all you care about” insisted Thomas, resentfully. “Money and appearances. The rest is unimportant”

“You’re living off my money, honey” drawled Jane, with superiority in her voice. “Show me a bit of thankfulness”

“You don’t want thankfulness, you want submission” spat Thomas, taking a few steps back. “Well, you don’t have it for me” he swore, turning around.

“ _Where do you think_ you’re going?” inquired Jane, her voice raising a tiny bit, but it was more than enough proof that she was about to lose her cold demeanour.

“Out of here. Of all…” he stopped for a moment, right in front of the door; right hand on the knob, left one making circles in the air to explain he was referring to them all. “All of _this_ ” he ended up saying, not finding the exact word to define the place he grew up in.

“Thomas, sit down” ordered Jane, coldly.

 

            He ignored her and swung the door open, more than ready to leave to never return. To the whole house, preferably.

 

“Put one foot out of this room, and you’re disinherited”

 

            Jane’s voice was so casual, Thomas almost thought she was joking. Then, remembered who he was talking about and dismissed the idea immediately, freezing right at the doorframe, grip tightening around the knob.

 

“Sit back down and let’s talk this like adults” continued Jane, her smirk clear in her voice.

 

            Because she knew she’d won. She had won and was enjoying it, savouring it like a kid does with a candy.

 

            Thomas knew he was being hypocritically materialistic, knew he complained about his siblings’ life-styles while he also lived untroubled and with no more obligation than doing as his mother said. Knew others had it rougher, especially to get the good education he always had within his reach (and that he, so cowardly had turned his back to). Knew he looked pathetic, swallowing his pride just so he could keep living off somebody else’s fortune.

 

            He comforted himself with the thought that the threat didn’t sting because he loved living well without effort (he still studied, though on his own, and read all the books he could and more); the really matter was that if his mother followed her ultimatum (which she would surely do, Thomas had no doubt about it) then only his siblings would get something from when the matriarch would leave this world. And if he received nothing in exchange, as material as money can be, after all Thomas had endured, after all he went through…

 

            That’d be so unfair. Thomas didn’t want to think about the possibility.

 

            And just when he was about to surrender, to accept the conditions his mother had talked about earlier and the new ones she would add now for his bad behaviour, the image of his Martha came to his mind.

 

            Thomas remembered all the woman had provided him with since they started dating four years ago. He remembered her tender caresses and soothing words during one of his many anxiety attacks; remembered her never-ending shows of support; remembered the feel of her lips tracing his skin, her arms warming up his cold exterior, her hands running through his wild hair with mastery, remembered the distances she kept when he needed it the most, with no rancour or uncomfortable questions right after, just respect and understanding; remembered how she reminded him how to smile and laugh sincerely, how she taught him how to dance as if the world wasn’t looking.

 

            A life in which he didn’t receive anything in exchange from all the suffering he’d put up with since he was very little from the hands of his mother, the woman who was supposed to protect him from such malice, was really unfair.

 

            A life without Martha by his side would return him to the cold and dark world he’d known since he had use of reason.

 

            She made a difficult choice the easiest in the world. And that would always make her worthy.

 

“We had a deal, Thomas” Jane reminded her oldest son, with condescendence. Thomas huffed again, under his breath. As if he didn’t know.

“Consider it broken, Mother” he replied, turning slightly and enjoying the puzzled look on his mother’s face.

“Where will you go?” she asked, hurriedly, seeing she was losing control of the situation. “ _What will you do_?”

“Martha’s father is as supportive as she is” responded Thomas, calmly; calmer than he’d felt in a long time. “We’ll get a place in Monticello and we’ll figure it out”

Jane smirked slowly once again, though with less security than the previous times. “So, your plan of future is to live off your father-in-law now?”

“I’ve got my own resources” assured Thomas, taking easy offense.

“You do?” wondered his mother, showing him that sided smile he despised so much, a mix of condescendence and taunt that made his blood to boil to inhuman levels. “You won’t last a week” she continued, her voice levelled and a bit raspy, as if swallowing a mocking laugh. “And I think I’m being generous by saying a week… You won’t last more than a full day playing the working man. After you see how hard it can be, you’ll come back running, with the tail between your legs”

Thomas swallowed, bitterly, not wanting to admit she could be right. “Farewell, Mother” he simply said, finally stepping out.

“You come from where you come from” she stated, the iceberg in her voice finally breaking, throwing him the pieces as poison darts right to his insecurities, the ones she’d fed since he was little. “You can pretend all you want, but you’ll always be part of this family, you’ll always share _this_ _blood_. _And you can’t change that_ ”

 

            Thomas closed the door, maybe a bit too hard. His eyes shut, partly for the slight sunbeam that managed to make its way through the grey clouds, but mostly because he was trying to erase his mother’s words from the walls of his brain. If he didn’t hurry, they’d turn permanent.

 

“Thomas?” a worried voice called him.

 

            His muscles relaxed at its sound and he opened his eyes, finding the concern face of his wife a few metres away from where he was standing. Stretching out a helping hand, she asked:

 

“Is everything alright? What happ…?”

“We’re leaving” he informed, cutting her off more sharply than he’d intended. He winced along with her once he realised. Clearing his throat, he took her hand and guided her to where their rooms were. “And we’re not coming back” he added, trying to cover the quivering of his voice.

 

            Martha looked at him, wanting an explanation, but did as she was told, without making any questions. By now. She simply packed up and left the place with him. Thomas thanked he didn’t bump into Jen or Consuelo on their way out, he didn’t want to falter in this decision by seeing their heartbroken expressions. Martha noticed how strange it was that he didn’t want to say his beloved sister and housekeeper goodbye, but didn’t say a thing, following him to the car.

 

            Thomas would never be able to thank her enough for her silent support. He threw her a grateful smile that she reciprocated as he drove away from the mansion he’d spent his entire life living in. He didn’t know if he should be worried for the lack of sadness or homesickness the action should be giving him…

 

            Martha placed her hand on the top of his. He felt more secure again. They smiled at each other once more.

 

            As long as they had each other, everything was going to be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A divorced woman: This might sound unrealistic and pretty dumb, but I've heard people talking about divorced women like this...  
> *To bring a backpack: To have children  
> *Consuelo: Latin name that means "she who comforts". It's also a Spanish word that means 'comfort'
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Sursum corda!


	2. Pillars of support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas has only had two persons he could trust and count on the most in his most difficult times. One of them remembers how they have come to this situation.

“ _Gone_? What do you mean he’s gone?”

 

            Consuelo sighed tiredly as she put one rebel lock of her greying hair behind her ear. Her bagged eyes drifted to the clock by her left, the position of its hands making her frown her lips and tap her foot impatiently. Only less than half an hour left before the mistress came back from the meeting.

 

Important meeting.

 

Important meeting she had on the same day her son decided to leave the house with his wife for never returning.

 

And, sure, Consuelo couldn’t blame the poor man for reacting that way. She could only imagine what Thomas would’ve felt that morning, all alone, in his mother’s workroom, being judged by his own siblings. Except from Jen, whose presence was forbidden.

 

The tapping of her foot become quicker as she thought about how mean that decision was. Of all the siblings, Thomas had only connected with Jen, had only trusted her and had spoken his mind and heart. Still not as many times as he should have, but less was nothing, Consuelo comforted herself.

 

She thought she wasn’t exaggerating when she said that if it hadn’t been for Jen, Thomas would’ve ended way worse than he already was.

 

Consuelo smiled soft and tenderly when she remembered the little child she had taken care of since early age as a consequence of busy parents. She remembered Thomas’ quietness and introversion (which had grown over the years), but also curiosity and creativity (which she always encouraged along with his older sister and father). She frowned at the idea of Thomas losing those two traits that could take him so far in life just because the people he grew up with (the people he was supposed to trust the most) didn’t understand his world and preferred to destroy it before its seed could put down roots inside his brain.

 

But Consuelo always tried to water it. The first day of school, after Mrs Jefferson had told her son off for clinging to his diary (the one his father had given him for Christmas) instead of going to talk with the other kids, Consuelo helped the child to keep it inside his backpack, so he could have a safe space to go to if the new environment and company were too overwhelming for the kid. The day Jane scolded her son for questioning the Bible and had caught him trying to erase some parts of it to create one more ‘accurate’ (what the boy meant with that word, and where he’d learnt it, none of the adults ever knew), Consuelo helped him by bringing her own and letting the kid borrow it for his own amusement, answering his millions questions as well as she could. The day the school called to inform the parents of the ‘odd and worrisome behaviour of Thomas’ and Jane once more reprimanded her son, asking him in more than one occasion, ‘what is wrong with you’ and ‘why can’t you just be like any other normal kid’, Consuelo went to comfort him until the kid had calmed down, assuring him nothing was wrong with him and that he was fine just the way he was.

 

When Thomas started to fail and the boarding school informed Jane and she, one more time, berated her son for his lack of maturity, as he allowed his emotions to take over him, Consuelo made sure to call the teenager to let him know she was still there for him and stood at the other side of the line just talking about everything and nothing, not pushing the poor kid to talk about the subject his family had tagged as a taboo.

 

            Peter Jefferson had died, and it was not a secret how close he and Thomas had always been. Saying the kid stopped being himself after his passing was an understatement. Thomas turned quieter and colder, also a bit more saddened and lacking all kind of random energy that would invade him on so very few moments but that both Consuelo and Jen cherished so much.

 

            Jen was also devastated by the death of her father, but both women understood that for Thomas it was worse. Jen and the rest of the family were there, saw how Peter’s health deteriorated since the end of the summer, before Thomas had to go back to the boarding school. For the teenager, his father was ‘getting better’ as Peter promised and Jane dismissed, the seldom times Thomas had enough courage to ask his mother personally. Not only did the news hit him like a truck, it scarred him for reasons he refused to share.

 

            Thomas had told his sister and her that it was because he wasn’t there when everything happened, and though both of them did their best to cheer him up and assured him it was not his fault and that he shouldn’t feel bad, they knew that wasn’t the true reason why Thomas acted so subdued.

 

            Jen and she found out a few years later, when the boy was already in college and that horrible moment, in which Thomas fainted in the middle of a presentation, took place. The girl had gone to the hospital as soon as she received the call, not minding about her own classes at all, and stayed with her brother until he woke up, disoriented. Jen had called their mother, despite her best judgement, because she knew it would be worse if she was informed later. It would only add bitterness to the news that her son had Jen, his sister, as the emergency call instead of her, his own mother.

 

            Consuelo had had to bite her tongue when the mistress had come to her, complaining about the whole issue, venting her frustration with her, knowing pretty well the Mexican woman would keep her silence, fully aware that an incorrect word would cost her the salary, the treatment or even the whole job. But she spent the whole speech thinking that it was the most normal thing to expect from Thomas, as Jen had acted more as a mother and pillar of support for the kid than she ever had. Damn, even she had been more of a mother figure than the own Jane Jefferson.

 

            The reprimand was guaranteed.

 

            As soon as the trio walked in the house, Consuelo heard the argument mother and daughter were having. She frowned in concern when she didn’t hear Thomas’ voice at all, even if the slightest, just for asking for peace. She was about to step out and see if everything was in order (despite she knew it would make the mistress to throw her ire upon her, but she was very used to that by now), but she stopped abruptly when she heard the words that came out from Jane’s mouth.

 

            Consuelo didn’t even want to repeat them inside her mind.

 

            They made Jen’s mouth to click shut. And that was saying something, that girl, once in a fight, never stopped until she was victorious (which, most of the times, meant that her adversary had walked away, tired of arguing against a brick wall).

 

            Then, she heard her calling for her brother and a series of quick footsteps running away from the entrance. It was all that was needed for mother and daughter to start fighting again. The reason still unknown, but Consuelo right then had more pressing things to take care of.

 

            Being easily ignored by the two women, still arguing at the entrance, she went upstairs, knocking gently on Thomas’ door. It was swung open quite quickly. And, more surprisingly, the teenager threw himself to her arms, crying his eyes out, shaking like a leaf. Her heart hurt at the sight. She helped his panic to die down by counting from one to ten in Spanish, as she’d taught him to do each time he felt his anxiety polluting his thoughts. The trick did its expected effect and Thomas was already breathing normally, more aware of where he was. Though neither of them thought this house was the best place to be.

 

            She offered him a mint tea, which always helped his migraines to get better and she made the drink with gusto.

 

            Consuelo was stopped by Jane when she was about to deliver the teacup to Thomas. She didn’t say anything when the woman told her she would be the one giving that to _her son_ , emphasizing those last two words with sick envy. What could she say, anyways? She was lucky to still be able to get close to Jen and Thomas, the youngest kids in the house didn’t share their luck. Jane had become a bit more obsessed with taking care of her last three children herself, wanting them to spend as little time with the Mexican woman as possible.

 

            It hurt, especially after so many years of loyalty and devotion to her family and nobody else’s, but Consuelo rolled with it, not thinking a confrontation was the best thing she could do at her age and with an unstable roof over her head, which could collapse any minute if she dared to go too far.

 

            She was never told what Thomas and his mother talked that day, neither was Jen (which infuriated the girl to unimaginable levels), all they knew was that Thomas dropped out from college and started to study on his own. None of them worried, Thomas was intelligent and self-sufficient to keep going all by himself. And Jen was also calmer because she knew Consuelo would be there 24/7 as before to take good and real care of her brother if anything happened.

 

            And, yes, Consuelo agreed. She was also glad she could keep an eye on the boy, but it was because of that that she grew so concerned as time went by and Thomas became more obedient and tamed as days passed by. She tried to talk it out with him, but he simply shrugged and never answered.

 

Jen joined her worry. She even moved back to the mansion to make sure her brother didn’t fall apart and lose the last bit of his essence. Both missed the sound of Thomas’ laughter or his rare ideas, or his sense of humour, or his wee smiles that were enough to brighten their world. They missed their Thomas, and didn’t know what to do to have him back.

 

            Thank goodness, sometimes prayers were answered.

 

            The day Thomas came back home with a different gleam in his eyes and trying to conceal the smile on his lips, Consuelo knew something big had happened. _Someone_ big had come to Thomas’ life, revolutionizing his world and reminding him who he wished to be when he was little, all the plans he came up with, all the places he wanted to visit, all the things he wanted to do.

 

            Martha Wayles. She knew her. She’d been that pretty girl Thomas had bumped into in the one and only party he’d ever gone to, following his sister’s advice of trying something new. The girl had stolen Thomas’ heart at first sight and had broken it as well without even noticing when she and him met again and Martha was with her boyfriend, who didn’t like her talking to other boys.

 

            But when some people are meant to be, there’s nothing anyone can do to prevent it for happening.

 

            Not even Jane Jefferson, no matter how hard she tried.

 

            She had started with little commentaries to discourage her son, to ‘make him realise’ she was not the one for him, to ‘protect him for someone that could hurt him’… That last one made Jen laughed so hard when she heard it. Ignoring the sharp glare of her mother, she’d said, looking directly in her brother’s eyes, with rapport:

 

“Better a divorced woman than a single viper”

 

            And that was enough to stop the malicious comments.

 

            Jen didn’t hesitate in showing her brother all her love and support, and even invited Martha a few times to dine with them. Her jokes, charisma and light really overshadowed the bite remarks Jane or Lucy would throw in the girl’s way. Martha and Thomas would be thankful to Jen for her tries, but came to the conclusion that forcing the relationship wasn’t going to work.

 

            And so, Jen decided to make plans for the couple to relax and spend time together to know each other better. Martha also started to share a close bond with her boyfriend’s sister, grateful for all the efforts she never ceased making to make her feel like home though the hostility was almost palpable in the still seldom occasions Jane would invite her to dinner or parties she threw.

 

            She and the girl had also talked a few times, and, one day, when everyone but them were home and peace could be breathed, Consuelo approved her, making Martha giggle and causing Jen to laugh loudly and Thomas to blush, but smiling slightly.

 

            Funny enough, just a few weeks later, Thomas confessed to Jen that he was thinking about proposing. Jen lost it that day, became a ball full of energy and happiness, she even cried a little, hugging her brother. Thomas reciprocated the gesture, enjoying his sister’s joy, though in a more contained manner. There were habits hard to kill.

 

            None of them expected Thomas to run away from the New Year’s Eve party Jane had thrown the day after, to marry in private.

 

“How dared you both!” had reprimanded Jen as soon as they came through the door, several hours later. Then, faking a hurt tone, she’d added, with a hand over her chest. “How did you do this to me, I thought we were close!”

“It was totally unplanned” assured Thomas, though neither of them knew which one she was referring to, or if Jen was addressing the couple.

“Those are the best type of plans!” had whined Jen, childish, gaining a slight laugh from the just married partners.

“Well, if we marry again, we’ll invite you” joked Martha, tapping her nose playfully.

 

            Who would have thought a simple joke would become true?

 

            Or almost true.

 

            Jane, on the contrary of her daughter, was actually upset for the action. A backstab, according to her.

 

            She called her son to meet with her inside her workroom that same morning, once she was up. Thomas’ happiness drained from his face as he got up and followed his mother. Jen was already prepared to go with him, so was Martha. But Jane’s cold words froze them in spot.

 

“Just him”

 

            Her voice sent shivers down their spines. Both sisters-in-law exchanged a look, and were ready to object, to complain, to argue until their throats hurt and their mouths went dry, but Thomas’ warning look dismissed their idea in a millisecond. He really was starting to take after his mother in certain things, though he hated being compared to her, so Consuelo kept those thoughts to herself.

 

“It’s alright” she’d whispered. “I can go later to serve them some…”

“And we will not need your services, Consuelo” Jane talked again, as if she’d heard her whispers. It was scary to think maybe she had had, somehow. “We’ll call you if we do”

“Alright, ma’am” she nodded, respectfully.

 

            Thomas threw her a rapid look. Too quickly for her to read, but she presumed it shared her same amount of impotence at that last order.

 

            And that was the last time she’d seen him that day. Consuelo sighed, coming back to the present world, saddened at the realisation. She couldn’t even say goodbye, and it stung that Thomas hadn’t come to her to bid farewell. But she didn’t resent him for it. In fact, she understood and supported the decision. Thomas wasn’t a fan of showing his emotions, though the three women he was the closest to tried to convince him of the contrary, and would have thought his decision of leaving forever would be weakened by the sight of the woman who had been with him through good and bad. The same went to his sister. Consuelo supposed it hurt him as much as them, and so decided to make it easier for him and simply let it go, wishing him for the best and hoping for their paths to meet again if fate wanted it so.

 

            Jen, though, had other plans.

 

“I’m gonna call him” she declared, fetching her personal phone.

“No” Consuelo was rapid to say, turning around completely.

Jen threw a frown in her direction. “He’s my brother, Consuelo. My brother left without saying goodbye. What the hell is that? What…? I know Mum’s been a bitch to him…”

“Don’t say those things about your mother”

“…but I was always there for him! And what does he do?”

“Jenny…”

“He leaves! Without a goodbye, a kiss, a hug, a wave of hand through the fucking window!”

“Don’t swear”

“Is this a joke?! Tell the cameraman to come out and end it, because it’s not funny!”

 

            Consuelo waited for a bit, arms crossed. The girl gasped a few times, tears welling in her eyes as she clenched her fists in frustration.

 

“Are you finished?” asked the Mexican, sternly.

“Yes…” replied Jen, with tiny voice.

“ _Cielo [Dear]_ , I understand you’re upset. I am too” she admitted, now with a tender tone. She walked to her and took her hand. “But understand how upset your brother must be right now. Do you think Thomas would have gone on with it had he seen you like this?”

The girl pouted a bit, knowing she had been left with no room to argue that logic. “No…”

“He loves you so much” assured the housekeeper, as if the girl didn’t know already. “And I bet he’s missing you as much as you do now”

 

            She patted the girl’s hand and turned around, cursing in her mother tongue when she saw the food almost got overcooked. The front doors were opened, and she hurried to have it all ready for when the mistress was at the table, with the remaining children that still lived with her.

 

“Could you please hand me the dishes, _cielo_?” she asked, rushed. “ _Cielo_? Jenny?”

 

            She turned around, seeing the chair the girl had been seated on vacant.

 

“She didn’t…”

 

            Consuelo ran to the nearest window, not fast enough to see the car of the girl driving away from the house but hearing the tyres screeching in the distance. She let her head fall against the cold glass.

 

“ _Ay, Dios, esta niña… [God, this girl…]_ ” she whispered, in frustration. Looking back at the dinner, she added, frowning: “Had I know I would’ve gone with her…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consuelo is a Latin name that means "she who comforts". And it's also a word that means "comfort" in Spanish.


	3. The art of compromise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Swearing  
> DISCLAIMER: The musical belongs to Lin-Manuel Miranda.

            She was feeling her heart beating fast against her chest, a sensation of angst taking over her as the unforeseen was about to occur. She closed her brown eyes tightly and bowed her head to be better hidden. A series of soft footsteps could be heard getting closer of her hiding spot and she looked frantically at both sides, seeing just the back part of the couch and the cream wall. The sound of heels stopped abruptly, and she waited expectantly.

 

            The little one jumped in spot when two hands took her by the sides and lifted her up from the floor. She glared right in front of a pair of light brown eyes that looked back at her with a funny gleam in them. The wrinkles around them just showing how happy she was for having found her; or having her in her arms.

 

            The woman laughed whole-heartedly at the irritated expression of the baby, holding her tight in an embrace.

 

“You inherited your father’s incompetence for hide and seek, little one!” she said, holding her with one arm and tapping her nose playfully. The little girl inflated her cheeks and slapped her hand away, in a bad mood.

“She also inherited being a sore loser for her mother” a male voice added from the doorframe.

 

Thomas made his way to his older sister and baby daughter. The girl softened her expression one in her father’s arms and allowed her head to rest against his chest. Jen smiled tenderly at the sight.

 

“Aw, look at this, my little brother, being a devoted father!”

Thomas huffed at the praise. “Not at all. That’s more Martha’s job”

Jen frowned at the response. “Shut up. You’re a devoted father and that’s it”

“Well, I’m better than you” he teased, walking to the kitchen with the baby and being followed by his sister. “Playing with a one-year-old to hide and seek…”

“She’s growing, she needs to exercise her brain” Jen defended her decision. “I thought you knew as you called me to babysit” she added, taking a seat at the table.

“I didn’t call you” answered Thomas, taking the bottle he’d made for the baby. As soon as Patsy took a hold of it, she started drink eagerly. “You just have a habit of showing up at my house, with no invitation”

“You love it” she drawled, making use of her southern accent.

“I fear it” countered Thomas, sitting across from her, with a cocked eyebrow. “So, what is it this time?”

Jen raised her chin and avoided his glare notably. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Jen”

“I’m just visiting my baby brother” she repeated, pouting.

“You’re not a child anymore, that trick doesn’t work” he said, smirking smugly.

She curved her lips and threw a sideways look. “You’re sounding like Mum”

Thomas squinted his eyes. “Jane, don’t insult me in front of my daughter”

“Hm…”

“Jane Jefferson” he said, sternly.

She grimaced. “Don’t use my full name” she complained.

“What is it?” he asked again, ignoring her request.

Jen tapped her foot nervously. “Well, now that you brought Mum up…”

“I did not…”

“She is throwing a Christmas party” she continued, not minding his words at all. “And, well… I was thinking…”

“No” interrupted Thomas, frowning.

“Tommy…”

“I said no”

“You haven’t talked to any of us in _three years_ ” she threw in his face, matching his furious expression. “Apart from me. And because _I_ come here”

“I talk to you on the phone…”

“The fucking phone can’t hug me” complained the woman, rolling her eyes.

“I’m busy with my work and the baby” he excused himself, raising one eyebrow.

“You work as a counsellor for your father-in-law” she said, as if he didn’t know, as if it didn’t sting in his pride. “Are you really telling me Patty and you can’t take a few days, during Christmastime, to come to Virginia and spend the holidays with the family?”

“We were already planning on spending time with the family”

“But…”

“That woman…” spat Thomas, venomously, as the image of their mother came to the front of his mind. “That woman kicked me out for marrying someone she didn’t approve. She hasn’t contacted me, you told me countless times she doesn’t even want to name me in there and you know what she did when Dad…”

 

            The words died in his throat. Jen winced in empathy and kept her silence as well, waiting until her brother decided to talk again. Thomas fixated his glare to the tiled floor of the kitchen, which was now sunk in complete tension, coming back to the real world when his daughter finished her bottle. She looked at both sides, her wide eyes and babbles calming Thomas a tiny bit.

 

Thomas sighed as he helped Patsy to belch and then went to put the bottle on the sink, planning on washing it later. He looked over his shoulder, seeing Jen looking directly at him, expecting him to keep going.

 

“I’m not interested on seeing her. And she doesn’t, either” he declared, returning to his levelled voice.

“Our siblings do” she insisted, gently.

Thomas laughed dryly. “Which one? Lucy, who celebrated my leaving because now she’ll inherit our parents’ law firm and everything else? Anna, whom I barely talked with when we lived together? Or Randolph, whose most successful relationship has been with that flask he thinks nobody knows he keeps under the couch and his mattress?”

“Well, you’re being quite cruel there…” began Jen, scrunching up her nose in disagreement.

“None of my siblings miss me, Jen” he cut her off, sharply. “And, to be honest, I don’t care. If they can’t accept Martha, or worse, any children I might have with her, then it’s like they don’t accept me”

“Mum wants to meet the baby” she revealed, with a foreign quiet voice.

“Pardon?”

“I might’ve… told her about Patsy and… Well…”

“ _When_ did you tell her?” he asked, suspicious.

“Well, a couple of months later she was born?” she tried to remember, feeling littler and litter the more her brother looked at her. “I can’t recall…”

“But it wasn’t yesterday, was it?”

Jen looked up, eyes wide. “Thomas…”

“Who’s going to that Christmas party? All of her _friends_?” he finger-quoted with his free hand.

“Oh, come on, you’re always thinking badly about everyone…” she complained, exhaustedly.

“About people who demonstrated me they can’t do something for the sole reason of it” retorted Thomas, rubbing the baby’s back as Patsy looked for the better position to fall asleep.

“Mum’s stubborn” argued Jen. “Just as somebody else I know…”

 

            Thomas huffed as she gave him an up and down look.

 

“And Patsy’s still her granddaughter” she continued, getting up and walking to him. “As well as our siblings’ niece”

“If they cared so much, they’d have contacted me by now” kept insisting Thomas, stubbornly.

“Look, none of them are my favourite people to be around” she finally admitted. “I know Mum’s been unfair to you, on levels that makes my blood to boil just by remembering. And I know Lucy is not the ideal sister, and that the twins and you’ve never shared a model siblinghood, but it’s never too late to start from zero.

“Besides” she kept going, when she received only silence from the man. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet”

“Oh, well, if my charming family wasn’t enough to make me go to a party with people I don’t give a shit about wasn’t tempting enough…” commented Thomas, sarcastically.

“Tommy, I know you’re a hermit, so when I want to introduce you to one of my friends, it’s because I know his personality can match yours”

“If you say so…” he drawled, in disbelief.

“Trust me. He’s also allergic to social interaction” she said, giggling at a joke only she seemed to get.

“Who is it?” he asked, not wanting to show interest.

“He’s Mum’s new accountant. Sorta” she explained, clumsily. “He had a nervous breakdown during college and had to drop out…” she began to explain, and Thomas couldn’t help but flinch, sympathising with a man he didn’t know. “His family and ours knew a bit, and Mum decided to give the man a chance to start working while he recovers before going back to college. And so, he has some experience when he goes to look for a job once he’s finished with his studies”

“See how she’s a cold planner?” he asked, smirking at the new information.

“Oh, drop it” complained the woman. “We’re not talking about Mum anymore. We’re talking about her accountant”

“I don’t trust somebody that has something to do with her” he admitted, having a million doubts per second in his mind.

“Consuelo and I do and you like us” responded Jen, right away. “Or so I hope” she teased.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “You know I do”

“It wouldn’t kill you to tell us more often”

“How is she?” he asked, hesitant.

“Who?”

“Consuelo”

 

            Jen smiled gently at his question. Thomas kept his mind busy by rocking an already sleepy Patsy and ignoring the bitter taste in his mouth. He held the Latin American woman in great esteem, and guilt was born in his stomach, making knot after knot at the thought of how he’d been ignoring the woman as she’d done some wrong to him, when, in reality, she’d been his most important pillar, along with Jen and his father.

 

            For a split second, he thought the housekeeper would be too mad at him for leaving without saying goodbye or for his lack of phone calls. He could tolerate his mother and rest of siblings not talking to him ever again, to have nothing to do with them and not having any news of any of them for the rest of his days. But that wasn’t the case with Consuelo. Especially when he knew how his mother seemed to despise her when his youngest siblings were born, for reasons Jen and Thomas never knew and didn’t have enough courage to ask.

 

Jen patted him on the arm, reassuringly. “She misses you too much” she answered. “Just as I do” Her brother returned her smile, unconsciously. “And she also wants to meet a certain little one”

Thomas sighed, in defeat. “I’ll talk it out with Martha”

Jen jumped from happiness. “Yay! Knew you’d come around eventually”

“Really, why didn’t you study to be a lawyer? You’d have aced it”

“Boo, too boring. I’m an artistic soul, I need to be somewhere else that isn’t a dull office with boring people” She casted him a rapid glare. “No offense”

“Full taken…”

“Well, as long as you still come…”

“Yes, you walking pain…” he nodded.

“All right, then” she winked one eye, as she made her way to the front door. “Tell Martha I said ‘hi’!”

“She’ll already know you’ve been here. Don’t think I’m not hearing the bag of cookies inside your purse…”

“Everyone is innocent until proven guilty!” was the last thing she said before closing the door at her backs.

 

            Thomas shook his head with affection at his sister’s mannerisms. He felt a bit of anxiety at imagining himself meeting someone new (the fact that he could put up with his mother when he didn’t have to, just so their families could create a bond based on business solely didn’t convince him much) and at a party, again with the same people he knew since he was young, and that now would be surely judging him for his life choices.

 

            It surely wasn’t appealing.

 

            Patsy made a noise, as she looked up at him, and then rested her head on his shoulder again. He smiled down to her, feeling a lot more relaxed, and made his way to his shared bedroom, where Patsy’s crib was.

 

            He thought about what Jen told him before. Though it was true his family wasn’t idyllic, he didn’t think making Patsy pay for it would be a right choice, especially if he was given an opportunity to start from scratch and try to maintain a civil relationship with his family. He wouldn’t be better than his mother if he turned the offer down.

 

            Thomas placed Patsy on her crib, tucked her in and patted her head. He’d sworn to never be his mother to any children he might have in the future. Well, the future was present already, and Jen was giving him a one in million chance. Even if he and his mother would never come to terms (Thomas still didn’t trust her completely) he could fix the relationship with his siblings. It wouldn’t hurt Patsy to have more than one aunt or uncle to be around, or some cousin to play.

 

            He decided to give it a shot. Martha would support him and he had the assurance that she and Jen would be there for him if things didn’t go well. Thomas could do anything if he had them by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has shorter chapters than I usually write because this story is like a prologue for the one to come, surely for next year; it's updated more slowly, though, because I want to do it fine, and not just paraphrasing from the other story. So, thanks for being patient :)
> 
> Sursum corda!


	4. His friend, James Madison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madison hadn’t accepted this ‘job’ to make friends. In fact, he didn’t go anywhere expecting to make friends. But sometimes life just gets in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Swearing  
> DISCLAIMER: The musical belongs to Lin-Manuel Miranda.

“I’ve got a brother whom you’d get along with just fine!”

 

            Madison hadn’t accepted this ‘job’ to make friends. In fact, he didn’t go anywhere expecting to make friends. His first years of existence in this world wrapped up in shyness taught him that. People tended to throw him into the pretentious basket without knowing him first, even his own family. Though his mother was more indulgent, his father always had some comment to do about it and, in the last few years, his sister joined too, taking advantage of having inherited the social personality of their two parents.

 

            In fact, this whole ordeal had been all his father’s doing. While his mother opined he should rest until he felt prepared to go back to the studying field, his father insisted on making him work so his mind were busy. Because, according to him, half of his illnesses (and he didn’t say ‘all of them’ because he knew how his wife could be when pushed too far) were because he was too bored and he decided to make them up.

 

            Yes, because Madison loved to feel no will to wake up from bed, his body hurting for no apparent reason, his heart wanting to jump out from his chest, his throat closing slowly, a weight on his shoulders, as well as he adored to live in extreme nervousness or apathy, with no grey zone, and how not to relish in being called hypochondriac when he over-worried about his fragile health but then, when he fell ill for ‘letting himself go’, those same ones who picked on him didn’t believe him and were even bothered by it? Yes, his father was totally right, he was so bored he needed to make up all of that – and feel absolutely guilty about it – because he didn’t have anything better to keep his mind busy with. Totally. He bought it.

 

            The case was that he never experienced a fiery personality, though he spent most of his days screaming internally. So, this made everyone think he wanted external people to make important decisions on his behalf. Most of the times, Madison coped with it, because he didn’t like confrontations happening, especially for something that could be solved if talked out when time had subdued the stubbornness. But this choice was killing him slowly.

 

            Mrs Jefferson gave him the wrong vibe when he first saw her. She was a little woman (a few inches taller than him, though) but her presence could make even a Titan to kneel. She had a strange magnetism that made him uncomfortable and the sound of her voice cut, her words made him bleed most of the times. Because, although she had agreed to this, Mrs Jefferson seemed to dislike him for some reason. She reminded him of that teacher he once had that hated him for being so quiet; so, James assumed it had to be that. It wasn’t like he usually failed in his theories.

 

            Her youngest children ignored him most of the times, only acknowledging him with a polite nod. Madison preferred the girl over the boy; she seemed sincerer and also more expert in the art of silence, against what society expected from her. Maybe because that common trait neither talked and couldn’t know each other properly.

 

            The same didn’t go to their sister, Lucy. She was always with Mrs Jefferson; they were very close, even for mother and daughter, like they shared a connection thanks to how they visualized the world and how they believed relationships had to work. Madison once found out Lucy was going to inherit her mother’s law firm and legacy once the woman would leave this world. And it was clear the girl loved the idea. She enjoyed bossing people around, despite her lack of professionality in the field.

 

            But Madison never said anything.

 

            He never commented on anything. He might hate this non-salary job, but he didn’t want to face his father’s rage at another failure.

 

            So, he kept his mouth shut, receiving orders from both women and doing more than any of them expected, so they couldn’t have a comma out of place to berate him for. Besides, despite his bad sensation while in her company and that Mrs Jefferson wasn’t the kindest boss, she was bearable.

 

            At least, she _was_ until her oldest daughter showed up.

 

            Called after her mother, though she preferred to go by Jen, she seemed so out of place and she cared so less that Madison liked her immediately, though they could seem like oil and water on the outside. Because Jen was smiley and outgoing, a walking celebration that saw a reason to be happy in every little thing (or person), while Madison kept his smiles for a few things he thought to be worthy and wore mental shades that turned everything a bit darker than it actually was.

 

            And yet, they got along.

 

            Jen was always making him part of a conversation and looked for him when bored or just when she saw something that reminded her of him or thought he would like.

 

            She simply looked for him because she wanted to be with him.

 

            Madison never had anyone doing that.

 

            He was surprised to see he liked it.

 

            He didn’t understand why Mrs Jefferson changed her behaviour towards him after he’d built a friendship with his daughter. She always made sure to reprimand Jen for entertain him when he should be doing his job – even though Madison always made sure to be seen with Jen when he was in a break or keep working while listening to her rambling – and thinned her lips each time Jen proposed him to spend the night there, to have dinner or to hang out with her. Madison didn’t only decline to please her boss, but because that world wasn’t made for him. And he was never gladder.

 

He’d caught Lucy throwing them discreet glares of discomfort from afar, too. She even threw a few commentaries about _how along he got with her sister_ , and Madison didn’t want to pay attention to the venom her words were covered in. He didn’t want to poison such a healthy relationship for the unreasonable bitterness of other people.

 

That didn’t mean he wanted to see how far their discomfort could grow if he dared to get along with another sibling. That was the reason Madison had decided to play coy with Anna each time she tried to get closer but ended up going back to her things. Of which Madison knew nothing about. That girl surely was quiet for having been raised among the constant parties and meetings this family threw to get to know people that could benefit them in a near future.

 

That was the reason why he went rigid under Jen’s petition. Especially because he’d already known her brother, and it was clear the man didn’t want to do anything with him. Or with anyone in here, honestly.

 

“I don’t think Randolph wants to establish any kind of relationship with me” he replied, politely.

Jen rolled her eyes at his mannerisms. “Stop talking like you’re in a constant job interview” she admonished, slightly. “And I’m not talking about Randolph”

 

            Well, that called Madison’s attention, to the point he couldn’t stop the eyebrow that raised and that made Jen smirk, in victory. You couldn’t blame him. He’d seen the dynamics of this family and saw that, though the siblings barely seemed to stand one another, they still put on a façade. It was like an eternal Christmas dinner with the family. So, he was naturally surprised when Jen revealed to him that there was one more to the Jefferson clan.

 

He couldn’t muster anything more than a simple “Ah”, before busying his lips with the teacup he’d been drinking. He took a glimpse at his watch to see he still had a bit until Mrs Jefferson came back and he’d have no excuse to not be working. For once he wanted a conversation with Jen to end…

 

“That’s all?” Jen all but pouted, clearly disappointed.

Madison shrugged. “Social interaction is not my strong point”

“Neither is his” she replied right away, a dangerous gleam dancing in her dark eyes. “He’s also very awkward, a nerd and extremely shy to the point you’d think he’s a pretentious prick”

“Wow” said Madison, half-closing his eyes. “Thanks for the boost of self-esteem”

“All in the good waaaay” she promised, drawling her words dramatically. “C’mon, when have I failed at matching two people up?”

 

            And Madison went silent at that truth. That didn’t mean he didn’t like the plan.

 

“I don’t think your mother would like me getting along with another child of hers” he admitted, knowing he could trust Jen with the truth and his honesty toward her family.

She simply scoffed. “Pf, what’s she gonna do? Send me to my room? Not allow me to go out for the weekend? Because, I’ll let you know, we’ve been through that and there was _no way to keep me in_ , darling” she boasted, with a smirk of superiority on her face.

“What about ‘firing’ me?” suggested Madison, with a more force and smaller smile.

“She’d have to hire you first” she shrugged it off. “And even if she did, she wouldn’t dare to”

“Sure, she really holds me in very high esteem”

“Nah, but she holds your parents. She wouldn’t risk her pride to go over the business. It seems to be the only thing she puts before that giant son-of-a-bitch”

 

            The last part was so rapid and muttered, Madison almost missed it. Thank goodness years of shyness had trained his hearing.

 

            He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. Jen was right in one thing: Mrs Jefferson’s pride and unhealthy habit of always wanting to look good in front of certain people was legendary. Even he realised that, with just a couple of months working there. So, Madison thought, he wouldn’t be the only one in trouble if one day she decided to sack him with no explanation convincing enough.

 

            He thought even his father would agree than firing his son for befriending someone, without the relationship interfering in his work _at all_ , was stupid and childish, and would backfire to Mrs Jefferson’s direction.

 

“Alright” he nodded, in a defeat manner, but by no means with ill feelings towards the now-smiling-girl. “I think I can give _a total stranger_ a shot”

“I was a stranger once and you still have all your organs inside you, don’t you?” she asked, in a happy laugh.

“That’s not encouraging” he said, shaking his head affectionately.

 

            And as he allowed himself to join her loud and sincere laugh, Madison realised he trusted this woman. There had been nobody in his life able to manage that. He thought this was why people kept insisting on him to socialize; they’d simple overlooked the ‘do it with someone worthy of you’ part, which Madison thought was very important.

 

            He decided to simply wait and let her do. How bad could it be?

 

* * *

 

 

            It was a disaster. There was no better way to put it.

 

            The man – Thomas, from what he heard – showed up a weel prior Christmas’ Eve, accompanied by his wife and little daughter. Miss Martha was a sweetheart to be around and always gifted him with a smile that meant the world to whoever that might saw it, because it could brighten a dark day. The little one, called after the mother, had also shown herself smiley and curious enough for James to handle. She’d only had a scarce number of tantrums, but as fast as they came, they were gone, so Madison didn’t find her distracting or annoying.

 

            The problem was the head of the family, also known as the man Jen had wanted him to meet. Why, he didn’t know, especially after interacting with him.

 

            Madison could cope with quiet people – it’d be hypocritical for him not to – and he could tolerate some awkwardness in how people acted – did he need to say the hypocritical thing again? – but James had learnt long ago that when someone doesn’t want to know anything from you, you shouldn’t push it.

 

            Thomas spent the majority of the days locked up in his bedroom, barely interacting with his own family – Madison couldn’t really blame him on that part; if he could, he’d ignore everyone in there too. But he was puzzled to see the man also shoving his sister, wife and _daughter_ to the corner of the ignored ones. He also felt a slight pang of empathy and bother when he saw the man dismissing the personnel with a wave of hand and without making eye contact, barely acknowledging their presence at all and completely ignoring them when they were the one knocking on his door to tell him the meal was ready.

 

            Alright, maybe they weren’t the nicest people either – Madison guessed Mrs Jefferson had wanted workers that matched her personality – with the exception of Consuelo, who had also failed miserably at getting close to Thomas, but for God’s sake… The man sometimes didn’t even respond to his wife and didn’t _pretend_ to care what neither of the twins had to talk about.

 

            Madison stopped wondering why Jen thought they could be anything near as friends within the first days and passed to not understand why _she_ got along with him, in the first place. It was something beyond oil and water, like in their case; it was about the pretentiousness the guy acted with. He thought the man should get more along with Lucy, if anything… Madison doubted he’d learnt his name, despite how many times Jen had tried to make them talk.

 

            She stopped trying after the third day of coexistence. It was a Christmas miracle, to James’ eyes.

 

            And, as such, it would be the only boost of luck he’d get before the ending of the year.

 

            Madison found himself weighing the options between faking his own near-death experience to get the hell out of there or killing the next person who came to him, asking why he wasn’t having fun, as this was a party. There was a moment when James simply got fed up and told one lady that he was too busy having fun at the party inside his mind, which was way better than that one and with better gests, too. The woman left his side, fuming mad, and he heard her criticising him, calling him the less social being she’d the disgrace to bump into.

 

            He decided it was time to simply make the little wine he’d left dance in circles at the bottom of his glass, before his tongue could get looser.

 

            Deciding to pretend to be busy waiting or looking for somebody, Madison scanned the living room. Its hugeness vanished as soon as it was filled with all kind of people, some old acquaintances, some new faces. He quickly tried to focus on anything else than that trail of thought, his anxiety nearly pushing him to the ground.

 

            His eyes soon fixated on the first face he knew. Mrs Jefferson had been chatting non-stop with all her guests. Or, as James saw it: she’d been interrogating without having the manners to let the other part imitate her. He wasn’t surprised, he suffered that the first week of working for her. It was her way of getting the information she wanted with class. Because not everybody was a sensitive as James to realise when someone asked you countless of things for anything else than fake politeness.

 

            Soon enough, Lucy joined the group her mother had been talking to. Mrs Jefferson all but brag about her daughter in front of those people, who dissected the girl with their glares. Madison almost felt bad for her. _Almost_.

 

            Wanting a break for the rapport between mother and daughter, he turned his head randomly, spotting the twins, not as far from their parent. They surely were behind Lucy when it came to social interaction. While Anna had a bit more of spontaneity once she cut loose and ignored the sharp glare of her mother in back of neck, Randolph was a lost cause. To the extent that, at some point, he gave up and left the chat to his sister, deciding his glass was his only friend tonight.

 

But they seemed like complete incompetent in comparison of their oldest sister. Jen shone with no help or planned intention, her naturality being the only secret behind her easiness of charming each guest she talked to. Miss Martha seemed to have that in common with her sister-in-law, and when both women joined, they became like a scary unstoppable force. Madison shivered at the thought.

 

Thomas, on the contrary, seemed to have inherited nothing from his mother when it came to social interaction. He left his wife and sister waltzed throughout the living room, charming people, while he stood to the side, enjoying his daughter’s company. Even from a distance, Madison could tell the man’s nervousness. He was very transparent for someone who cherished solitude and hiding for a whole week…

 

            Soon, not only Madison’s attention was on the baby. Mrs Jefferson walked to her son – for the first time since the gathering began. Madison tensed under the falseness with which the lady addressed her granddaughter. Once in the arms of his grandmother, the kid showed her discomfort, and Madison that time didn’t conceal his empathy toward the little one.

 

            Thankfully, little Martha didn’t cry, but if her frown and inflated cheeks were any indication, the baby wasn’t enjoying being showed off as an expensive object and wanted to be back in her father’s arms. In her eyes anyone with an ounce of common sense could see Martha Jr. was saying: ‘Let go of me or my first word will be a swearing’. It was kind of amusing, if you weren’t her parents…

 

            Miss Martha was inhumanly mad. In her body language Madison read her desires to go there, take her daughter and gave her mother-in-law a slap as a Christmas present. By her side, Jen watched the show with bewilderment, for once not knowing how to approach the situation. Lucy was childishly jealous of all the attention the baby was getting – which made James’ eyes to roll –, Randolph showed pure indifference, lost in his world and Anna seemed to be in empathic discomfort.

 

            Thomas was the only one Madison couldn’t read. If the man wasn’t exasperating enough before… He could see the basic and superficial, like the annoyance and fury he shared with his wife, but James couldn’t get further. It was then when he realised he never got to feel anything from the man. Not a red flag, not a sense of serenity, not a strange feeling of comfort that allowed him to get closer (as it’d happened with Jen), nothing. Thomas Jefferson was the first book which James couldn’t read beyond the cover.

 

            Honestly, it was putting James on his nerves.

 

            He changed from focus on right time to see Martha Jr. getting tired and slapping a glass of wine off its owner’s hands. The alcohol stained the carpet. _White_ carpet. Mrs Jefferson was quick to admonish the baby in a poisonous sweetness the girl ignored, just sending her grandmother the most fed up glare James had ever seen on an infant before. And his mother had their whole house adorned by pictures of his childhood, so he knew what he was talking about.

 

“Hey, have you seen Thomas?”

 

            James was dragged back to the real world by Jen’s worried voice. A frown matched her emotions, along with how she nervously played with the ends of her shoulder-length hair. He stupidly looked back when he’d last seen the man, seeing the spot vacant. Miss Martha was still there, tensed jaw and a glare proper of a serial killer in place.

 

“No” he replied.

Jen groaned under her breath. “Shouldn’t have taken my eyes away from him” she condemned herself.

“Maybe he went to the bathroom” he suggested, shrugging. It wasn’t like her brother was a little kid.

“Um, do you mind looking for him?” she asked, with foreign shyness.

“Pardon?”

“ _Please_ ” she whined, clasping both hands together. “I can’t leave Martha alone. _Have you seen her face_?”

 

            Fair point.

 

            And this could be the perfect excuse to leave this place. And to go to the bathroom to clear his thoughts and have a moment to himself to charge his batteries.

 

“Yeah, alright”

Jen gifted him with one of her bright smiles. “You’re the best, Jemmy-James”

“Don’t call me that, less in front of people” he admonished, between gritted teeth, passing her his glass.

“Okay, I’ll let you be for tonight, that way I won’t owe you!” she laughed – quite forcibly for James’ likings – before drinking the little wine that he had left in one gulp.

“The heck you don’t” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Try not to even drink the water from the vases”

“You _offend_ me”

“Mission accomplished”

 

* * *

 

 

            If Thomas had decided to lock himself up somewhere, it wasn’t in the nearest bathroom. James had done so, letting the water running down the drain calm his unnoticeable nerves. He was getting better at hiding his imminent anxiety, he’d give himself that…

 

            He splashed his face twice, to be able to go back there with a clear mind. He’d surely need it if Jen could not only control Miss Martha, but act on her behalf…

 

            With a sigh, Madison stepped out the bathroom and closed the door quietly at his backs. He looked at the long hallway and decided to still look for the man. Even if Thomas had gone back down by now, the walk would calm James a bit more. He didn’t need to go much farther than where he’d been standing, as a series of whispered words he couldn’t comprehend were heard from behind one of the doors.

 

            Later, Madison’s mind would register it as Thomas’ bedroom, but right now he was more concerned about the shaky breaths his words were accompanied with. He considered the option of calling Jen, but before he could turn around, his hand had knocked on the door, silencing the person on the other side immediately.

 

            Without thinking again, Madison opened the door and stood at the doorframe, not wanting to take more liberties. Especially when he saw Thomas by the opposite wall, a distress hand through his curly hair and failing at concealing his pitched breath by gritting his teeth. One wouldn’t need Madison’s strong intuition to know the man was having a very rough time.

 

“Are you alright, sir?” he asked, hesitating under the lintel. He gnawed at his bottom lip when he received no answer, and tried once again: “Sir, are you…?”

“Splendid. I’m so fine I came up here to celebrate it in peace” spat the older man, with dry sarcasm.

 

            Madison thinned his lips at the unexpected forcefulness. He comforted himself by knowing Thomas could hear him and was aware of where he was. He could work with that while keeping the distances.

 

“Sir, can you try to take a deep breath?” he suggested, staying calm.

“I’ve been for nearly half an hour”

 

Madison dismissed the incorrect amount of time the man thought to have been gone. He knew in his state it was the less of his problems.

 

“Sir, please” he persisted, strangely stubborn, “try to take a deep breath through your nose and…”

“Mr Madison, go back down and tell the scene to my mother. _I don’t care_ ” interrupted the man, giving him a rapid yet sharp sideways glare that kill whatever words that tried to reach the tip of James’ tongue. “Just… _be gone already_ ” he ordered, with strangled urgency.

 

            At first, Madison wanted to argue, to contradict him and make him follow his advices, let him know he understood what he was going through. But the lack of eye contact made him obey instead, closing the door as quietly as he’d opened it and leaving the man to his own devices.

 

            He tried to not think about how odd it felt wanting to fight with a man who clearly didn’t want anything to do with him and how easily he’d managed to offend him with the accusation. Or how shocking it was that Thomas _did_ know his name and how he felt good about the discovery.

 

            Damn his parents for making him come to this stupid party on their behalf, really…

 

* * *

 

 

            James didn’t have the chance to tell Jen where her brother was. Mrs Jefferson was already interrogating her, while Martha had her daughter close to her chest, throwing daggers at her mother-in-law with the glare. Thomas came down a moment later, when the majority of the guests were gone, and the remaining ones were too busy or tipsy to mind the family.

 

“Where were you?” Mrs Jefferson all but barked.

 

Thomas froze immediately at her words. From where James was standing, he still couldn’t get a glimpse of the man’s eyes, but he saw his hands shaking slightly at both sides. He drowned the guilt he felt at the sight. He’d tried to help; he was not responsible for that man’s stubbornness.

 

“ _Again_ , Thomas?” sighed Mrs Jefferson in exasperation. “Are you incapable of doing anything right? To follow a simple petition? What is _wrong with you_?”

 

            James saw Lucy giving her brother an up and down look of disdain and then threw a huff to the air, hiding her wee smirk with the gleam of her glass. Randolph moved uncomfortably in spot while Anna writhed her hands, her eyes jumping from her mother to brother, as a tennis ball.

 

“Always the same song with you, Thomas. I thought you’d grown up already, but no matter whoever’s roof you live under, you’re uncapable of being reliable, of doing _your own mother_ a favour” kept going Mrs Jefferson, her words staying low but turning sharper. They were starting to cut James too, who stood a few feet away and had nothing to do with it.

 

Jen and Martha were more than ready to step in, the only ones with the clear intention to stop the verbal assault. Surprisingly enough, it was James the one who strode to be by Thomas’ side and spoke first, interrupting his boss.

 

“Actually, Mrs Jefferson… Your son had to be absent because he was helping me out” he made up, with naturality. Now, he truly reconsidered going back to study Laws instead of another thing when he went back to college…

The woman exchanged a glare between the two, annoyance shading her eyes. “Was he?” she asked, in disbelief.

“I wasn’t feeling well” continued James firmly, not breaking eye contact. “He was walking by me and, so, I asked for his help” He turned his glare to the taller man, who was looking back at him with concealed surprise, not wanting to spoil the act. “ _Thank you_ , sir” he emphasised, and by the look James got, he knew he’d succeeded in letting the other man feel the double meaning of his gratefulness. _That’s what you say when somebody try to help you_.

 

            Mrs Jefferson stood there in silence, scrutinizing the two. She inhaled sharply through her nose before speaking.

 

“If that’s the case…” she conceded, clearly unwilling. “Next time, though, James, make sure to ask for one of my personnel for help” she reprimanded, sternly. “They’re here for a reason”

“Sorry, ma’am” replied the younger man, not feeling his words in the slightest.

 

            If the woman noticed or not, she didn’t let it show, just going back to bid farewell to the rest of the guests.

 

            James felt very small when all eyes were on him, a mix of emotions in each pair. And being 5.4 ft, he needed to end the feeling soon.

 

“If you excuse me…” he began, awkwardly, keeping eye contact with Jen, who had a raised eyebrow. “I must be leaving now. It’s pretty late”

“Goodnight, James” replied Lucy right away.

 

            He ignored her right away too, striding to the front door.

 

* * *

 

 

            The next day Madison knew the Jefferson marriage were leaving. James couldn’t blame them, he still felt bad for their daughter, though she barely knew what happened and defended herself quite well for someone so young.

 

            He didn’t hear any farewells but saw Anna and Randolph avoiding their older brother’s bedroom like the plague. The girl had made a few gestures to go in there, but always changed her mind at last moment and went back to her own room. Madison sometimes pitied the poor girl, she lived in a constant insecurity. He knew what that felt like.

 

            Jen was the only one who spent the morning with Thomas and Miss Martha. James thought about going to also say goodbye to her favourite brother and sister-in-law, but came to the conclusion that he didn’t have a place in there.

 

            Consuelo knocked on his door by the time it was about to be his lunch break.

 

“James, Thomas wants to see you” she informed, not giving him a time to answer before she left.

 

            Soon after the man was at his door, a book in his hands. James took his time to take in his appearance. He was way better than last night, which was a plus, but the nerves were still there. James thought they were part of him and followed him wherever he went, and another wave of empathy bathed him.

 

“Can I come in?” he asked, cautiously.

Madison shrugged. “It is your house” he answered, making sure he didn’t sound obnoxious.

For the slight smile he was given, he considered himself victorious. “It’s not anymore, but alright” admitted Thomas, walking to his desk. He handed him the book and James saw it was about astronomy. “Jen told me you love these subjects” he explained.

James took the book, noticing how the act made an invisible weight to be put off Thomas’ shoulders. “I do, yes” he nodded, inspecting the book. “Thank you”

“It’s nothing”

“When will you be back, so I can give it back?”

“It’s yours” he surprised the accountant. “I already know it by heart, and well…”

 

            It was that day when James understood that was Thomas’ way of saying ‘I’m sorry’. He wondered if he had a huge library with thousands of different kinds of books for all the times he’d have to apologise for being an asshole.

 

“I’m not your mother’s lapdog” he said, more brusquely than he’d intended. To be honest, he didn’t know why he brought it up or why he couldn’t let it slide, or why he cared so much about what Thomas thought.

Thomas seemed slightly surprised by his tone. “I know”

“Good” he nodded. Softening a bit his glare, he added: “And neither I’m a tell-tale”

The taller man tensed considerably. “You didn’t have to do that”

“I know” Madison repeated his previous words, with a slight shrug.

“Sorry if it causes you an inconvenience” he managed to say, and James then saw traces of his boss’ pride scattered throughout her oldest son. “My mother can be… _difficult_ ”

The shorter man gave another shrug. “She already hated me, so I think I gave her a reason to do it more openly” he admitted, giving him a small smile.

Thomas chuckled. “Well, that’d make two of us”

 

            James frowned slightly at the bitterness his words wore, then. Thankfully, Jen arrived to extinguish the awkward silence that fell over the two.

 

“What? Have you made up already?” she asked, throwing a knowing glare to the two.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Jen…”

“Alright, alright” she immediately said, holding both hands up. “Patsy is whining for her bottle, so Martha says you should leave to eat soon”

“Alright”

“Wanna come, Jemmy?”

“ _Jen_ …”

“Actually, your brother owes me a meal” said the accountant, throwing a glare to the taller man.

“Oh, you do?” asked Jen, teasingly. “Shame on you, little bro, you’re married”

“It’s an apology meal, evil-minded” corrected James, rolling his eyes with affection.

Thomas cocked an eyebrow at that. “What about the book?”

James smiled to himself. So, he’d been right. “That’s your apology for making me lie for you. This will be for you being an asshole for no reason”

 

            Jen cackled in the middle of the hallway, not giving a damn about the tension the house had been sunken into since last night. Thomas, on his behalf, blushed in embarrassment.

 

“He saw through you” she laughed, tapping him on the back.

“There, enough” he admonished, rolling his eyes.

“Making noise again? Can’t I leave you alone for one minute?” asked Martha, approaching the group with the baby in her left arm and dragging a suitcase with a bag on the top of it with her free hand. Her tender smile showed no true bite behind her words.

“Can Jemmy come eat with us?” asked Jen, tilting her head to the side and performing her best puppy eyes.

 

Martha eyed him with curiosity as she passed the baby to her father _. She’s truly a daddy’s girl_ , concluded James, smiling slightly at how close Martha Jr – or Patsy, as Jen had said earlier – clung to her father for dear life.

 

“Sure” shrugged the woman. “With all the commotion, we couldn’t meet properly”

“All settle, then!” decided Jen, clapping both hands with enthusiasm. “I’ll take this to the car and we’ll leave in no time!” she declared, grabbing the suitcase with one hand and trotting to the staircase.

Thomas half-closed his eyes at the sight. “Look at Miss ‘My back hurt, I can’t take out the garbage’”

“Better leave before she starts honking. I don’t want to bump into anybody” said Martha, in a whisper, following her sister-in-law.

“Agree” nodded Madison, getting up quickly. He made sure to toss the astronomy book inside his briefcase, too. When he was walking by Thomas’ side, he added: “And better be prepared for all the ‘I told you so’s she’s gonna say to us”

Thomas laughed sincerely at that. “We won’t hear the end of it”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you have a Christmas special to update and you procrastinate writing other stuff XD
> 
> Sursum corda!


	5. His favourite older sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d learnt at a very young age to wait until night came to cry. His brain processed what had happened as if crying was bad, so he tried to hide each time his dam wanted to break. Jen frowned in worry when she noticed the lack of tears and sensed the tension in her brother’s body when she comforted him because something had happened, but never questioned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Swearing, mention of the death of a dog, mother guilt-tripping son.  
> DISCLAIMER: The musical belongs to Lin-Manuel Miranda.

            Thomas was prideful. Not in the ‘I only say ‘sorry’ once a year’ way, but more of a ‘You’ll only see what I want you to see of me until you’re worthy’ kind of way. It sounded stupid and pretentious, and he put up with that reputation. It wasn’t as if he cared. He considered himself very strong-minded in that sense.

 

            Back in school, he didn’t make many friends, and he thought something was wrong with him. The words his mother dedicated him on his first day of class still echoed in his mind 28 years later. That warning she gave him before letting him go.

_Stop thinking so highly of yourself;  
_ _you won’t make any friends like that._

            Thomas never thought highly of himself, he was just cautious. A part of him wished his mother had been right, wished he’d been the pretentious kid everybody thought he was. Maybe that way he wouldn’t be a dependent piece of shit. Maybe if he weren’t such a dependent piece of shit a lot of people would’ve lived better, would’ve been happier. Maybe, if he’d been a cocky child, he wouldn’t have suffered for the hatred he received from his ex-classmates, because they would’ve had a reason to hate on him, a reason he knew, and so, he wouldn’t have gone mad trying to figure out what he was doing wrong.

 

            Jen spent his whole school days convincing him of the contrary. She never got tired of repeating him that there was nothing wrong with him, that he was fine the way he was and that friends must love you for who you are, accepting your flaws and virtues. Maybe because of that definition he spent his whole life giving much without receiving half of what he offered.

 

            It frustrated and angered him on levels even he understood weren’t very normal. He felt ashamed of himself when he looked back on his childhood and was only able to remember tantrums he threw when he couldn’t reach a personal goal, no matter if it involved other people or just him. It was embarrassing. He tried to conceal all those memories from the world, as if he’d committed a crime and he was wanted. The possibilities of somebody new to know were very little, for not saying impossible, but he always worried.

 

            Because, although he knew he wasn’t perfect, he couldn’t manage the thought of the world realising and teasing him for it.

 

            He hated to be this way, but more he hated when people thought he liked to be this way. Hated when they rubbed in his face how much they were suffering for his way of being, adding more guilt to the heavy sack he always carried on his back.

 

            The only one who never said a comment about it was Jen. When a crisis hit him, she stood by his side, muttering reassuring words that comforted him along with her human warmth. She’d been one of the only few people he didn’t mind touching him with no previous warning. If he’d been a crier, she’d have also wiped his tears, but Thomas always found such a natural task impossible to perform, which didn’t help to the cause of people looking nastily at him, as a weird bug*.

 

            In fact, Thomas only remembered one time he cried like a Magdalene*. When his dog, Caractus*, had to be put to sleep because he fell ill and the surgery was too expensive. Thomas believed he hadn’t cried so much in his entire life than when his mother gave him the news. He knew he hadn’t made so much noise since _ever_. He didn’t understand why it’d hurt so much or why he’d panicked so much when he imagined his world without the greyhound by his side.

 

            When he told the story to Martha – who’d begged for a dog since they’d started dating, receiving only negatives on his part – she concluded it was because Caractus had been his father’s dog before he was born. He’d been raised with the loyal quadruped companion by his side, it’d been his constancy and stability. A living being, not a simple object with emotional weight, that went to him, ‘kissed’ him and kept his company when humans didn’t make the grade.

 

            It was his first encounter with death, as most children would say. For Thomas it was also the cold hand of life slapping him across the face, showing him how ephemeral everybody and everything was. A hard lesson he didn’t want to learn or admit as an inevitable truth. A seed of fear that he watered with all the tears nobody was able to put under control.

 

            His father had tried to console him with stories of the dog being in a better place; Consuelo explained the afterlife according to her beliefs; Jen explained him nobody can die as long as you remembered them, but for Thomas it wasn’t enough. Nobody could calm him down. He wouldn’t stop crying, kicking up and down; he wouldn’t eat or sleep.

 

            It was the first time his parents fought so hard and loud, Thomas realised with the passing of the years. He couldn’t remember what they said to each other, he only recalled being slightly afraid when he heard his father’s screams, the threats of his mother, her crocodile tears, that Thomas, in his childish innocence viewed as real.

 

            Jen tried to convince him it hadn’t been his fault, but he knew better. He was little, but very smart. It was a curse more than a blessing, no matter what his sister said. Thomas had been the reason of the first serious quarrel between his parents, he’d been the reason why his father threw his tranquil demeanour through the window, the one who’d thawed his mother’s coldness.

 

            He’d learnt at a very young age to wait until night came to cry. His brain processed what had happened as if crying was bad, so he tried to hide each time his dam wanted to break. Jen frowned in worry when she noticed the lack of tears and sensed the tension in her brother’s body when she comforted him because something had happened, but never questioned it. For once, she let him be. Thomas was grateful she knew when to keep her silence, though sometimes he wanted to be asked.

 

            He needed people to ask him what was wrong.

 

            He needed somebody to explain him what was wrong.

 

            He needed to talk until his tongue got tired and he had no more vocabulary to express what he was feeling.

 

            He needed somebody to nod along, not interrupting.

 

            He needed somebody to answer all his questions, but also didn’t.

 

            He didn’t know what he wanted or needed, but he did. He needed whatever it might be, and he needed it bad.

 

            He needed it bad when his father died and he was not there to say goodbye, when he didn’t make it on time to the funeral, when he didn’t kick up a fuss as big as when _a dog_ died. He needed someone to explain him why Caractus made him cry storms but he was unable to gift his father with a drizzle.

 

 _His father_ , who meant the world to him, who taught him all he knew, who had the patience a kid like Thomas needed; who had been his lighthouse, guiding him through the dark hallways of his mother’s impossible labyrinth. He guessed that was the best metaphor to picture his father, because when Peter left the Earth, Thomas’ world turned completely dark.

 

            A few relatives stayed in Shadwell, giving condolences to the family. Everyone looked strangely at him when he showed no emotion when his father was mentioned or answered with a simple shrug when they asked how he was doing. Thomas knew what they were thinking, he read it in his mother’s eyes until he had to go back to the boarding school.

 

_You cried for a dog but not for your father?  
_ _You’ve never been able to love properly._

            When Jen saw the days passed and Thomas refused to get rid of the blindfold he had wrapped around his heart, she took his hand and walked by his side. Thanks to her Thomas hadn’t fallen in a well he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to get out by himself. Thanks to her, Thomas had managed to get up from bed;  thanks to her, Thomas hadn’t lost hope when a series of rituals came to his life, changing from one to another completely different when he’d thought he was over the previous one; thanks to her he’d met the best woman possible; thanks to her, Thomas had given it a try when he knew Martha had broken up with his college boyfriend.

 

            Thanks to Jen, Thomas had the life he’d always dreamt about. A soulmate that brightened his days, that helped him battle his dragons, that enjoyed his successes and cried his sorrows. A woman that gave him the most beautiful girls he could’ve ever asked for.

 

            He always had an unfinished business with sister for all she’d done for him, always thought he owed her something. Jen always frowned at the idea and dismissed his tries, saying she did it because she felt it and that it was her pleasure as his older sister. Thomas just saw that as another reason to make it up for her.

 

            But, in the end, the same patron was repeated. Thomas was in the middle of a crisis, something got stuck in his hand, something happened and made him lose control of a situation and he panicked. And Jen went to his aid, always knowing how to act and what to say. It was like a natural gift. Sometimes, he felt envious of her. Then, felt terribly guilty for it and clung to her, wanting to make sure she hadn’t found out somehow and was angry at him.

 

            It was stupid, but knew he needed to do it in order to be able to sleep and not feel a suffocating pression in his chest.

 

            As if all those sacrifices weren’t enough, Jen also reprimanded him when he’d managed to hide a discomfort or a horrible day from her, but not from his wife, who also could read him as an opened book, and ended up calling the eldest Jefferson sibling.

 

“ _Talk to me! Come to me! Even if you don’t know what’s wrong, I don’t care! Always come to me, I want to be there and help you!_ ” she’d say, crying the tears he repressed.

“ _I don’t want to be a burden_ ” he’d reply, his coldness in juxtaposition of her burning passion.

“ _A burden?! You’re my brother, you’ll never be a burden!_ ”

“ _I’m a mess. You can’t always be here for me; it’ll come back to bite you later_ ”

“ _What bites me later is knowing I wasn’t there for somebody I love dearly!_ ”

 

            She always won the fight with that argument. But when the moment came, Thomas never reached out to his sister. Jen didn’t know the great part of thoughts that intruded his mind daily, she only knew what he let her see, what he couldn’t hide from Martha, what made his wife dialled his sister’s phone number because she knew he needed Jen.

 

            That was until the other night.

 

            Thomas didn’t know what came over him. The day had been normal, nothing had gone wrong, but he felt the air not reaching his lungs properly, the enervation surrounding him. His father-in-law had pointed it out when he went to visit his daughter to see his new granddaughter. Unintentionally, he’d made Thomas feel horrible. His wife had a fragile health lately since the last labour, and the last thing she needed was babysitting the mess of her husband.

 

            Martha sent him a warning glare, her silence saying more than any speech could have. He smiled weakly at her, dismissing his father-in-law’s worries, saying he hadn’t slept very well with the arrival of Mary. His wife didn’t believe him, but allowed her father to do so.

 

            When Mr Wayles left, right after Martha fell asleep, Thomas decided the least he could do was to call his sister himself. Jen was beyond shocked, but the happiness in her tone was clear. She even _thanked_ him for calling her, said she was proud of him for admitting when he needed help.

 

“ _Hey, I’ve got an idea! To celebrate and cheer you up, I’ll come over and we’ll have a sleepover!_ ” she’d suggested, as enthusiastically as a little child.

“ _Jen, you turned 34 last summer_ ”

“ _So?_ ”

Thomas had laughed. “ _You’re incorrigible_ ”

“ _Good, I like to be a young spirit_ ”

“ _I’ll take that as that you want me to get the Disney movies ready?_ ”

“ _Good brother, good brother_ ”

“ _You know Patsy will want to join, with no room for debate, right?_ ”

“ _Now, I can’t wait! I’ll be there in a blink of an eye!_ _Love you!_ ”

 

            She’d always ended her calls with a ‘love you’. Thomas found it endearing but didn’t share her habit.

 

“ _Bye, Jen_ ” he’d said, as usual, and then hung up.

 

            His farewell as well as the beep-sound of he ending the call haunted Thomas when the phone rang again. It was Jen’s number, but the voice on the other end was foreign.

 

            As the priest ended his speech and the coffin where his sister would rest in forever descended, Thomas’ mind repeated the explanation he was given when he picked up the phone for a second time that night.

 

            A car accident. A stupid drunkard that ignored the stop signal as well as the speed limit. His sister, who didn’t see it on time. No survivors. He’d died in the crash; Jen had managed to be alive until she reached the hospital, but didn’t make it.

 

            A malign, dark side of Thomas wished the roles had been reversed. That it’d been that bastard the one who suffered before seeing there was no hope for him. Wished he’d crashed before Jen arrived or right after she’d drove past that road. Even wished for that idiot to have survived just so Thomas could have him face to face and ruin his life. He never managed to finish his studies in Laws, but he remembered all he studied and he could contact a few friends who practiced. It had been that man the one who decided to drive inebriated, why did Jen have to pay for it?

 

            Thomas felt himself shrinking in his seat. He missed Martha’s presence by his side, but he couldn’t bring her there. Her health was not strong enough to stand the vultures of his family. Besides, he didn’t want his Patsy to go through this; he trusted Martha to explain her why aunt Jen wasn’t coming back. She’d surely do it better than he’d ever have. And he didn’t want Mary to be with anyone else that weren’t her mother, she was barely a month old.

 

_Gosh, she’d never get to meet Jen…_

 

            They moved into the house. The heaviest silence filling the big mansion. Thomas tried not to think about how none of them would ever be able to erase an uncomfortable silence as Jen did.

 

            His phone buzzed inside his pocket and he immediately answer, going to a secluded area of the kitchen.

 

“ _How’re you doing?_ ” asked the tired voice of his wife.

“Fine” he replied, automatically. Then, clearing his throat, he corrected himself: “I mean… I… Coping” he decided.

“ _I understand_ ” she said, comprehensively. “ _I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you_ ”

“No, it’s better this way” he assured her. “How’re the girls?”

The smile was clear in Martha’s tone. “ _Patsy has been taking care of Mary all day_ ”

“She’s very responsible” praised Thomas, smiling slightly at the image of his daughters getting along. At least, he had managed to do _that_ fine… “Have you told her…?”

“ _I did_ ” she interrupted. There were a series of muffled sounds. She surely was trying to find a comfortable position to be on bed. Martha always hated to be still. “ _She’s sad, but sent a prayer to Jen, asking God to deliver the message to make sure she hears it_ ”

 

            Thomas had to smile despite himself. In those moments, he was grateful his wife was a believer. He saw it easier that way, to believe that there was something more after we leave. He wished he’d be able to believe as his family did. Or as Martha and her family did, actually, he found them more opened and respectful. That was why he always left that part of the education to her.

 

            He tensed and his weak smile vanished easily when he heard the unmistakable sound of his mother’s heels. Firm and resolute even in a day like this. Then, he was the heartless one…

 

“I’ve gotta leave, darling” he said, in a hurry.

“ _Alright, honey. I love you_ ”

 

Words seemed to get trapped in Thomas’ throat, almost unable to muster a “Goodbye” before hanging up.

 

Thomas managed to pretend he’d come there to take a glass of water, as his mother was doing now by his side. Jane barely looked at him, glare lost. Thomas thought it was for the best. They were never close. He was expecting the distance between the two to be clearer after such an event. Suddenly, he wondered how Anna and Randolph would be doing. They didn’t talk as much, but Jen was their older sister too. And, well, Lucy’s.

 

He ended up deciding he should go talk with his siblings. Right now, he was the oldest. He felt some kind of responsibility with them today, of looking after them, as Jen had done when Dad left. As she’d always wanted things to be done.

 

“How are Lucy and the twins?” he dared to ask, casting a discreet glare in her direction. She seemed smaller somehow, thinner, paler. Her bun was tied firmly on the top of her head and Thomas winced in empathic pain.

Jane barely returned the glare. “How do you think they’re doing?” she asked back, voice low and lacking her usual bite. “Better than I, that’s all I know. A parent should never bury their child”

 

            Though the statement was true, Thomas couldn’t help but grimace when he heard the sickening comparison. And Thomas remembered why he barely talked with his mother, why they were never close, why he was never able to open up to her: all was a competition to her. And she was always the one on the top. Even in the middle of a grief.

 

            He didn’t have it in him to argue. It wasn’t the time nor the moment. He let the glass there, untouched, and made clear he was about to leave. The situation with his mother was useless, but maybe he could still save the one with his siblings.

 

“I told her so, so many times” muttered Jane, a raspy voice, a sharp glare. Thomas didn’t need to look back, he didn’t dare to, he could feel it in the back of his head, burning in his skull. “I hope you’re satisfied now”

 

            Thomas’ larynx closed inhumanly quick. He got dizzy and had to put a hand on the doorframe to keep his balance.

 

            He knew the hidden meaning behind those words. And Jane never did owt for nowt. She knew what those words could cause, knew he’d understand.

 

            Once he felt a little bit steady, Thomas sprinted to the bathroom, knowing the way by heart, by so many times he’d lived this scene before.

 

            Nothing came out when he tried to vomit; he hadn’t had any hunger to subdue, but his turning stomach didn’t calm down after a while of trying. He could feel his eyes watering for the force used as well as a raspy throat. He placed a hand against his forehead, trying to even his breath and calm the migraine that attacked him.

 

            He barely heard the door opening and closing slowly at his side.

 

“Do you want help or will you kick me out again?”

 

            Thomas had to laugh despite the situation. He turned around, finding what had turned out to be one of his best and closest friends, despite all odds.

 

            Madison made a gesture to get closer and when Thomas didn’t do anything, he took it as an affirmative and hugged his friend by the arms. James didn’t ask questions. Surely, he suspected why he was upset about, but didn’t know what had made it worse. Thomas preferred it that way, he couldn’t tell him what he’d done. Right now, along with his wife and daughters, James was everything he had to keep himself steady.

 

            Thomas didn’t cry that day, or the ones to come, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A weird bug: Un bicho raro. Our way of saying a weirdo.  
> Crying like a Magdalene (Llorar como una Magdalena): That's our version of saying 'crying one's eyes out'. It makes a reference to Mary Magdalene's crying when she saw Jesus' death. It's said she was the one who cried the most.  
> Caractus was actually IRL Jefferson's horse.
> 
> Sursum corda!


	6. He's been in Paris, meeting lots of different people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER-WARNING: Transphobia  
> WARNING: Swearing  
> DISCLAIMER: The musical belongs to Lin-Manuel Miranda.
> 
> I've searched information about transexuals laws in France. I've read articles in Spanish, English and French (though I'm still not very good in this last one language...), especially those of personal experiences and legal stuff concerning the matter. Still, if I've gotten something wrong (in any of those fields), let me know. *This chapter is set after 2007, I've become a mess with the dates at this point and I can't place a concrete year*
> 
> ***and that also goes to my translations, if you can call those that***

           It was usual to hear things like ‘time heals everything’, or encouragements such as ‘they wouldn’t like to see you like this; they’d like to see you keeping on’, and so on. Thomas never understood any of them when he was little, when he was saturated by idioms to look good when his father left, neither he did as an adult when Jen and his mother were passed the torch of external sympathy.

 

            Maybe he was weird… (Alright, he’d always been at some extent, his mother had made sure to let him know plenty of times). But he never found any comfort in such shows of support. Honestly, he saw them as false, sometimes, depending on whom spoke. The other part, the littler group of people who were really close to him, well… He didn’t feel much, either, but at least he was more sincere and thankful for their company and genuine concern.

 

            After Jen left, he’d managed to keep going thanks to his wife and daughter. They were enough reason to get out of bed, and each time he held either Patsy or Mary in his arms he felt the smallest glimmer of proof that he was indeed as human as they came. The two girls had become his anchor to sanity. Especially when Jane abandoned the world and he, by own choice, didn’t assist to the funeral.

 

            He could see Martha’s disapproval and judgement when she saw the days passed and he showed no interest in going to say his last farewell to his remaining parent. Lucy had tried to contact him. With sharp and cold messages, but tried to reach him. She was the oldest right behind him and had become the head of the law firm once Jane passed away, since Jen hadn’t showed interest towards the family business (and she wasn’t there anymore to changer mind) and he was as good as ostracised.

 

            Lucy had always been a bossy individual. Not a born-leader as his mother had tried to picture her. It was part of her DNA, just as her brunette hair, her dark skin. It was something she came and would leave with. Thomas didn’t want to be present now that she could set that beast free.

 

            It was selfish and childish, borderline coward, but it was what he’d done and what tormented him some nights. A phantom that whispered in his ear when everything seemed calmed and perfect around him, when he needed the quietness the most. He’d signed a life-long sentence, fooled into thinking that he might find some mental peace now that his mother was gone. He never expected the deceased woman to harass him with more force than before. Maybe because of that he’d always heard that of ‘never disturbed the dead’.

 

            Seemed that his agnosticism couldn’t save him.

 

            James was more into the spiritual side than him, and Martha stood to another level he’d ever seen. Thomas knew that if he went to them they wouldn’t tag him as insane or laugh at him, but he’d still shameful of admitting what was going on inside his head, of the clear voice that invaded his mind and froze him up with insecurities he thought to be over with.

 

            He supposed he wasn’t afraid of being judged by his fears of something hounding him to exhaustion; he guessed it had something to do with something scarier, like the reality of his actions and the repercussions he deserved, no matter how hard.

 

            Thomas kept his silence. He had a master in the field. His wife had enough with the complicated pregnancy she was facing and James had done enough for him by finding him this job, he didn’t need to hear Thomas complaining about irrational fears or made up excuses to not face his responsibilities.

 

* * *

 

 

            The trip to France was unexpected and very inopportune. Thomas feared King’s decision had more to do with the aversion he seemed to feel towards him than the ‘it’s for the good of the company and you fitted the profile’ bullshit he’d pulled on. Thomas didn’t want to push his luck by declining (it wasn’t like King had left much room to a discussion about his decision), and he knew he was already walking on thin ice after the _favour_ he’d asked his boss for. Thomas hated to be tied up like a puppet, but he also despised not using till the last resource to help those he loved.

 

            In for a penny, in for a pound, as it was said…

 

            Martha was equally stubborn now than when she was healthier. It cost hell to convince her to stay in the States while he was abroad. All his efforts were down the drain once he informed her about taking the girls with him. Thereafter, she refused to give in, and Thomas ceded and also made her suitcase. He thought a change of airs would do her better than be left with two girls to raise without his help.

 

            Thomas thought the only good thing about this ordeal was that it happened during the summer and he wouldn’t have any trouble with the girls and school. Besides, he was hoping them to learn a new language, which always do you good in the long run.

 

            Thomas wasn’t an expert in French in any form, but he managed and learnt fast. Maybe too fast, he preferred when he didn’t make out what his workmates said about him. Thomas kept the knowledge to himself; he knew it was the best option. Besides, as time passed and his work paid off towards the rest of the personnel, the majority changed their behaviour towards him.

 

            He barely did much other than help clients with documents and some doubt they might have, or any inconvenience the others didn’t want to take care of. Countless times he’d managed to save a situation from disaster or a misunderstanding with a foreign client. But that seemed enough to earn some respect from his colleagues. If only he could manage to do that with his superior.

 

            Thomas wasn’t the most progressive neither the most conservative. To be honest, he’d always had so many things inside his head that he decided to live his life and let others live theirs as long as it didn’t interfere with his own. Had he his own ideas? Absolutely. Would he fight for them? Of course, they were his for a reason. But he always had some work ethic that prevented him to do so in his workplace, especially towards the public.

 

            So, how he, with that trail of thought, was stuck in a small desk in some corner by the entrance of the building, while Dupont was in charge of Human Resources.

 

            The joke told itself.

 

* * *

 

 

“Thomas, _pouvez-vous aider ma cliente, s’il vous plaît_? [Can you help my client, please?]”

 

            Thomas turned around, changing his focus from the printer to the woman standing at the doorframe. Maria Cosway and him had clicked since they met, and not only because both knew fluent English (which was always good news when in a foreign country). They shared hobbies and intellectual interests. It had been her idea to practice French when he arrived so they could improve without feeling too embarrassed. And, in such a difficult time of his life, her seemingly never-ending good vibe and bright personality was like a blessing.

 

Maria smiled apologetically at him, the urge in her brown eyes and the need of a breather clear in her thinned lips. He returned the polite gesture and nodded.

 

“ _Bien sûr, Maria, j’y vais_ [Sure, Msaria, I’ll take care of it]*” he assured, pointing at the printer to let her know it’d take him a moment.

Maria sighed in relief. “ _Merci beaucoup_. _Je vous revaudrai ça_ [Thank you so much. I owe you one]”

“ _Je m’assurerai que je m’en souvenir_ [I’ll make sure to remember]” he joked, managing to make her laugh and soften her features.

 

            He made sure to finish his task as quickly as possible to leave the client hanging, placing the photocopies under his arm and trotting to the front desk, where a woman was waiting patiently, taking in her surroundings. After exchanging the cordial greetings, he proceeded to take her personal information to be able to contact her and have everything in order.

 

            Thomas knew some people looked down at him for not continuing the path of studies somebody else had made for him, and he carried certain disappointments throughout his youth that still weighted on his shoulders, but in these moments those dark thoughts were left forgotten. Turned out, helping out people in small things could improve your mood and this job helped him overcome the chains of shyness and social anxiety. He surely was not the same man that started working as this for his father-in-law when young.

 

            But he carried an annoying trait that did him no good while working with people, a flaw Thomas seemed unable to brush off: he was horrible at reading people or get to know when they were uncomfortable until it was too late. So, it was to no surprise to him how he missed the clear signs of discomfort from the woman when she handed her ID card.

 

            And less surprising was how dismissive he sounded when he pointed out what he thought to be an error.

 

“ _Excusez-moi, mademoiselle, je crois que vous m'avez donné un mauvais carte d'identité_ [Excuse me, miss, I think you gave me a wrong ID]” he said, handing the card back to her.

She moved uncomfortably in spot. “ _Non, c’est le mien [No, it’s mine]_ ” she corrected, shyly.

 

            Thomas took a look at the photo and name, and after some deeper attention, he saw the similarities between it and the woman across him.

 

            Yes, undoubtedly this was the worst flaw to have while working directly with the public.

 

“ _Je suis désolé, laissez moi… [I’m sorry, let me…]_ ” he hurried to say, typing

“ _Pour cette raison, j’ai eu besoin d’un avocat_ [This is why I needed a lawyer]” she mumbled, embarrassed.

“ _Comment vous vous appelez?_ [What’s your name?]” he asked, normally.

“Claudine” she replied, relaxing a bit.

Thomas nodded and then locked at her, passing her the card. “ _Téléphonez-nous dès que vous êtes donné votre nouvellle carte, d’accord?_ [Call us as soon as you have your new card, alright?]” he explained, performing a gentle tone he’d perfectioned with the years. “ _Je le fairai savoir à ma collègue_ [I’ll let my workmate know]” he promised.

“ _Merci, monsieur_ [Thank you, sir]”

 

            And the kind smile she sent his way was enough to calm his nerves and toss his insecurities aside.

 

            At least, for a couple of hours.

 

* * *

 

 

            The workplace was a calm place, so when Thomas heard a heated argument, the first instinct was to get up to see what was wrong. Which was also everybody else’s instinct, if the crowded hallway was any indication. As he walked closer, he distinguished Maria’s voice and he made a face. She could be the kindest woman, but she also had one hell of a temper. Thomas suspected he was drawn to her because she reminded him of both his older sister and wife.

 

“She’s my client, let me handle it!” complained Maria, red in the face.

 

            Thomas cocked an eyebrow at the usage of English, until he saw she was arguing with Dupont, of all people, and understood that if she could do anything to piss him off a bit more than he seemed, Maria would take it without a second doubt. He frowned, growing worry over her and the consequences of such an outburst, and was about to step in to keep things calmed (and, if he could, dismiss the rest of the people who were witnessing).

 

            He never managed to get any words out of his mouth, though, because as soon as Dupont saw him there, his face changed to another level of rage, keeping him frozen in place and on guard.

 

“Jefferson, how many times do I have to tell you that you must inform me or any other superior before a problem?” he barked, accent thick.

Maria took his moment of hesitation – trying to figure out what he’d done wrong this time according to him – to answer herself. “ _La seule chose qu’il a fait a été d’aider ma cliente_ [The only thing he’s done was to help my client]” she defended, making sure that everybody there understood her properly.

“He altered…” tried to argue Dupont.

“ _J’ai écrit sa information personnelle, monsieur_ [I wrote her personal information, sir]” assured Thomas, following Maria’s tactic. “ _C’est tout_ [Nothing else]”

“You’ve got his information wrong” kept admonishing Dupont.

“Her” corrected Maria, frowning in anger. “ _Je sais que vous ne vous sociez pas de l’argent, mais j’ai choisi cet emploi pour aider les gens_ [I know you only care about money, but I chose this job to help people]” she reproved, with a level tone that sent more chills than any scream.

Thomas took a step closer after seeing the daggers Dupont sent in the woman’s way. “Sir, we work for the people” he agreed, keeping his tone calm but resolute, deciding to talk in his native tongue to make himself very clear and not ashamed a superior, in fear of making matters worse. “You want to comment your ideas on certain topics? Wait until you’re out of here and do it with friends, but while we’re here, we must treat them all the same. Now, please, there are people waiting to be attended and this is horrible advertisement for the law firm”

 

            Dupont inspired through his nostrils and, for what seemed the first time, realised he was being watched carefully by the first floor almost entirely. With a huff, he mumbled ‘go back to work’ in his native tongue, and turned on his heels, disappearing through the first door he bumped into.

 

“Hope it shuts him up for the rest of the week” said Maria, when they were left alone.

“With that verbal slap, I’d be surprise if he dares to make a fuss like that for the rest of the year” agreed a man at her backs.

 

            Thomas acknowledge the man’s presence with a court nod and then turned his attention to Maria, who was smiling smugly at the way Dupont had walked to.

 

“And I hope next time you can imitate my volume” he half-reprimanded.

She shrugged it off. “You know I’m very protective over my clients”

“That’s good to know” laughed the French man. He walked closer to the pair and stretched out a hand. “Lafayette. Or Gilbert, I answer to both”

Thomas returned the polite gesture, glad to know another kind person within this walls. “A pleasure. Thomas”

Maria sent the French man a glare of complicity. “I’ll show you the complete name later. It’s _insane_ ”

“I didn’t choose it” was his weak defence, as he shrugged one shoulder. Then, seizing Thomas with a glare, he added. “You know? You just reminded me of a guy I met back in college… In the States. He’s more… _fierce_ , but I think you could get along just fine” he explained, with fondness in his glare, surely rejoicing in his memories.

“Maybe you’ll bump into him when you are back” chimed in Maria, a hand on her hip. “Though it’s the opposites the ones who attract one another”

“And it’s not likely I’ll be going back any time soon. King will make this as long as he can” he reminded her, without getting into much detail in front of a new face.

Maria snapped her fingers. “Oh, yes, I think I’ll call him” She revealed, walking in her office with an evil grin on her lips. “I’ve never thought I’d be glad of Samuel’s existence until now”

 

            Thomas laughed about the commentary while Gilbert eyed the girl with curiosity.

 

“King’s partner” she explained.

“Maria…” admonished Thomas.

“It’s not like they’re a secret. Everyone noticed when the poor guy came for an inspection” she dismissed, waving her hand and placing her phone to one ear.

“You’re leaving your client waiting” he reminded.

“Keep him busy, I’m sure you’ll like each other” she decided, closing her office door for privacy.

Gilbert laughed at her mannerisms, luckily downplaying the situation. “She’s quite something, isn’t she?”

“You have no idea” admitted Thomas, shaking his head affectionately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES:  
> Claudine means sensitive and affectionate.  
> J'y vais = I'm coming, but I think it can also have that connotation.
> 
> Would you believe me if I said this chapter was not planned at all? Like, it was going to be about a whole different situation, and as I wrote the plot turned to this and I wanted to keep it. It might seem out of place, but I think it's necessary to show a bit of Thomas' personal morals and where and how he stands about them...
> 
> Only one chapter to go to end this prologue and in the next story all usual characters will appear! :D
> 
> Sursum corda!


	7. Patsy's interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst. That's all this is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Swearing  
> DISCLAIMER: The musical belongs to Lin-Manuel Miranda.
> 
> Patsy's about to turn 12. And Polly, 6.  
> Little Elizabeth died at the age of four months.

           _July 28 th_

_It’s been almost a month since we came to France. According to Dad, we’re going to spend the whole summer here and I think I’m getting the hang of French, though the verbs always get me… I wish I could learn as fast as Dad, but I guess he has more practice than me because he’s always surrounded by native speakers at his workplace. At least, he gets to talk to somebody else. I miss my friends. We promised to text each other to not lose touch before going into high school, but I barely hear anything from them anymore._

_I guess I’m happy for them, at least some of us are having fun._

_Mum can barely get out from bed anymore. Since Liz was born, she had been feeling weaker and weaker. She doesn’t tell me, but I can tell. She used to tell me I’ve inherited her ‘wise sixth sense’, whatever that is. I haven’t reminded her after she lies to me saying she’s feeling better. I think that’s not the best approach now…_

_Polly’s still insufferable, but I can’t blame her now. She doesn’t have a phone yet, so she’s always asking me for something. I admit, the only reason why I haven’t gone crazy it’s because of her. She seems to be the only one in the family who still talks to me about things and answers my questions._

_August 1 st_

_Tomorrow, I’ll try to convince Dad to take us for a walk. He has no work on Saturdays and I think he needs some fresh air. I’ve seen him groaning and massaging his forehead, so I guess he’s having one of his migraines. Mum usually tells me not to bother him when he’s having one of those, but I think he needs to get out that stupid office. He barely spends time with me or Polly anymore._

_Besides, I think the baby needs to see something else than the walls of her temporary room._

_August 2 nd_

_Mum fell while we were walking. Dad caught her on time. Luckily, Polly had been wanting to hold our sister for a bit and I was looking at her so they both were fine. I don’t know if I should feel happy for having missed the scene. What I know it’s that I feel horrible. I’ve tried to be by Mum’s side, but Dad told me to go to my room._

_I can’t blame him for being mad at me. I am too. I just hope he doesn’t hate me for what I’ve done to Mum._

_August 12 th_

_Hey, sorry for not updating you in more than a week. I’ve found myself so tired lately. I sleep, but I wake up more tired. It’s weird… I’ve snapped at Polly a couple of times already, and though I’ve apologised, I feel so bad. She seems fine and not angry. I always liked her easiness to forget things, wish I had that… Still, she didn’t deserve it. I’m trying to make it up to her by lending her my things without putting too much of a fight._

_Anyways, I decided today was a good day to catch up with you. Aunt Lucy came to visit. Which was… odd, at first. I don’t know my aunts and uncle. I’ve heard of Lucy and I think I’ve seen her a few times when I was little (?). But very little, like… Everything is blurry. Just like when I try to remember grandma._

_Dad didn’t seem very pleased with the visit. I’ve seen him grimace a couple of times. And then he tells me and Polly off if we do. The nerve._

_Though I understand him. I try not to interact with Lucy much, there’s something off about her. Maybe it’s because she barely smiles and doesn’t talk to us directly. She always boss us around, but doesn’t talk to us. I don’t know, I know I’m not making any sense right now._

_August 18 th_

_Doctors came in and out of the apartment like if this were their house… They spent all the time with Mum and talking with Dad. Anytime I tried to get close to know what they’re talking about, Lucy sends me away._

_It’s official: I do not like her._

_August 20 th_

_Polly still has enough courage to ask questions. Or clumsiness to not know where to shut up, I don’t know._

_She asked Dad why Mum doesn’t eat with us anymore or why they’re always doctor checking on her and Liz. Dad didn’t seem very comfortable with the question, but answered anyways. As far as I understood, they’re both sick and need to be checked very often. He assured us it was nothing and that everything was going fine, just slow. I didn’t believe for some reason. But I don’t understand Medicine at all, so I might be wrong._

_I hope I am._

_August 24 th_

_Dad spends all his time in the stupid office or with Mum. That last one is the only time we get to spend with him lately. Anytime I or Polly try to knock on his door, Lucy stops us and sends us back to our room._

_I still don’t like her._

_August 29 th_

_I never thought I’d say this, but I want high school to start already. This has to be the worst vacation I’ve ever had, and this taking into account that I’ve always wanted to go to France. But this summer is giving a bitter taste to the country._

_Mum can barely do anything without help and she spends the day in bed. Dad buries himself in work and barely pays attention to Polly’s drawings anymore. I even taught her a few words in French (languages are_ not _her strong point) and he only sent a small smile in her direction. She was disappointed, but shrugged it off and went to do other things. I envy her so much when she’s like that…_

_August 31 st_

_We’ll go back to the US around next week. I know the last thing I told you was that I wanted school to start because this holiday has become unbearable, but after Dad told us Lucy would be with us for some time, I take back my words. I should’ve known. Mum couldn’t travel because of her state and Dad wouldn’t leave her alone. Still, I wish he’d chosen somebody else to take care of us. Whoever._

_He doesn’t take along with her, I can see it. And Lucy is clearly annoyed that we’re going to be under her wing for some time. What else does he need to choose somebody else? He could let us with uncle Jemmy, he’s always been nice to us, and his wife looked like a nice woman. A whole lot nicer than Lucy, though that’s not very difficult to achieve._

_September 4 th_

_I don’t understand anything. High school is about to start and yet Dad doesn’t want us to go. He won’t say why, though._

_Polly tried to ask him (no, she still hasn’t learnt where to zip it) and he snapped at her. Dad snapped at Polly. He’s never done that before. He’s done anything but spoil her since she arrived…_

_I’m waiting until she decides to come out her room to be sure she’s alright. She simply slammed the door and refuses to talk to me. She even ignored Lucy (Polly finds her scary, and I can’t blame her) when she called her for dinner and told her off for being a ‘brat’. I mean, she just turned six. She’s a child. What else would you expect? This woman…_

_September 27-28 th (it’s 2 am… but whatever)_

_Hi. Sorry it’s been so long. To be honest, I almost forgot about you. I’m just writing this because I couldn’t sleep and I decided insomnia was a good excuse to keep myself busy by cleaning a bit. I found you at the back of my suitcase, well kept. You can’t say I don’t take care of you, even when I ignore you…_

_Mum died._

_Not today. Two days after I last wrote you._

_I guess that’s a good excuse to abandon my writing habit… Sometimes I don’t know if I’m plainly insensitive or my humour is too out of this world. I’d rather not know._

_If you guessed that’s why Dad showed himself so reluctant to let us go back to the US, you’d be right. I don’t know what I’d have done in her place, I’m only twelve, being a mother is not in my to-do list and it’s been ages since I last play mum with a baby doll. But I think that keeping such information from my daughters wouldn’t be an option I’d go for for too long. As either would it be not talking to them and barely be with them. Or (indirectly) forbid them to talk about her or what happened or how we felt._

_She was his wife, I get that. But she was my mum. I think I’ve got some right to be upset about this, too. And I think, between the two, he should be the one mature enough to handle the situation and help us out. Instead of sending us with the bitter sister of Rottenmeier, who hates our guts. Or at least, mines. But I guess I’m asking too much for him to notice. Either I turn into paperwork or he’ll never pay attention to me, that’s how it goes now._

_There’s no day (or moment) that Lucy and I don’t fight. For the stupidest reasons. Maybe I should let them go for that same reason, but I refuse to let her judge or mock me for my likings. Even if they’re not ‘feminine’ enough for her. Today, she crossed the line, implying that maybe ‘because of my unfitting temper and attitude my friends stopped hanging out with me’. Like she’s nice… So much that her own brother cherishes her company. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her that, but I couldn’t stop myself. She slapped me across the face. Maybe I deserved it for being too sassy, but I don’t mind. It hurt less than what she told to me._

_Because, yes, I’ve forgotten to tell you: my friends no longer talk to me. One summer out of the country and people substitute you like some old piece of furniture. I’d like to say I don’t care, but gosh if it didn’t hurt. At least, they could talk to me about what I did wrong for us to split-up. Why isn’t anybody talking to me? Did they become allergic to communication and I’m immune or some shit?_

_Not surprising, Dad called today. Just the same day I exploded. Cool. I don’t know what twisted version Lucy whine to him over the phone, but I couldn’t care less. He seemed to not give two fucks, if the lack of a reprimand is any indication. If that’s not enough proof that this woman has always lived in a parallel reality, I don’t know what would be…_

_He asked for Polly and Liz, who had fallen ill and I had to take care of, because Lucy was too busy with her business, the one Dad should be doing but is not because of… I don’t know. As usual. I passed the phone to Polly because she misses Dad so much and I knew she would love to talk to him for a while. He calls every weekend, and sometimes midweek if he has the time, but still, it’s like he’s growing more distant as the days passed._

_After bedtime rolled around, Polly gave me back the phone before she could make Lucy angrier. Our conversation had nothing to do with the one they had. Whenever Dad and I talk it feels so… unnatural, so cold. Like he only talks to me out of obligation and not because he wants to. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t get the feeling off of me._

_He asked me about Liz several times, making sure she was fine. She’s always been very weak since she was born, so it’s normal. And I’m actually glad he trusts me with my sisters. It feels nice. Still, I wish he’d remembered. Only Polly did today, and she and Dad were the only ones I care about remembering._

_Well, seeing I’m taking his role, better do this on his behalf too: happy birthday to me…_

_September 28 th (afternoon)_

_Remember when I commented that Liz had fallen sick? Well, it was worse than what we thought. I heard her coughing and wheezing when I was about to go back to bed to try and get some sleep. Thank goodness I was awake, otherwise I don’t know what would’ve happened…_

_Lucy took the baby to the hospital and returned without her. Left in observation. Again, I wish I knew something about Medicine. Or not. I don’t know._

_Polly’s been way more mature than me, assuring me it wasn’t my fault. But who else’s is? I was left in charge of her and I didn’t pay her enough attention. Sure, I was awake, but I wasn’t paying attention to her exactly. And besides, what is she going to know? She’s only six, for god’s sake. She’s just starting Elementary._

_Fuck. I don’t know if I’m making any sense right now. God, I hope Liz gets better, don’t take her too…_

_October 3 st_

_Dad is taking us with him. After… Liz he came back from France and had a huge fight with Lucy. I’ve never heard him scream so loud. It was pretty scary. Lucy might have thought so too because she barely made a sound or get in his way when he came to talk to us. More like order us to make our bags because we were going somewhere else._

_Polly hasn’t said a word to him. I think she finally feels when it’s appropriate to keep one’s silence._

_We’re moving to New York, from what Dad told us. I should be packing my things right now but I found you and… I think I just needed someone to talk to._

_I can’t be sadder. My only confidant is a dia…_

“Patsy, are you ready?”

 

            She looked up from her diary, stopping abruptly. Her father scanned her room, or what was once her room and then locked eyes with her. Patsy looked down as she closed her diary, feeling the vacancy in her father’s eyes like a punch in the guts.

 

“Come on, Martha, we’re leaving now. Stop losing your time writing whatever it is now and get ready” he snapped, exasperated, before walking down the hall.

 

            Patsy swallowed the lump in her throat as she held the diary close to her chest. Her diary. The first place where she could speak her mind without being judged, where she could vent freely. The diary her father had bought her for one of her birthdays, explaining her all that, with a fond smile on his face.

 

            She placed it cautiously on the opened suitcase on her former bed, closing it with a furious thump. She repeated the vehemence when she put it on the floor, exiting the room loudly. Thomas made a face when she approached him and Polly, who looked up at her with a frown of worry.

 

“Don’t make so much noise”

“Didn’t you want me to hurry up?” she snapped, passing him by without dedicating him a look.

“Don’t talk back to me” he snarled, grumpily. “I’m not in the mood, alright, young lady?”

“You’re _never_ in any mood” she talked back, throwing the suitcase in the opened truck of the car.

 

            She jumped in the backseat, arms crossed and huffing. She looked to the side to not look at the look her father had to have, the glare he might be dedicating her. She was already aware their relationship was falling down, she didn’t need to witness it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sursum corda!

**Author's Note:**

> *A divorced woman: This might sound unrealistic and pretty dumb, but I've heard people talking about divorced women like this...  
> *To bring a backpack: To have children  
> *Consuelo: Latin name that means "she who comforts". It's also a Spanish word that means 'comfort'
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Sursum corda!


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